Lost in Space: The Return
by Will Ackerman
Summary: Lost in Space never concluded its storyline. I have always wondered: what could have happened to the Robinsons? Over the next 12 chapters, I intend to answer that question. Sit back, relax, and let's head out into deep space. Enjoy the ride!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: "Last Week, As You Recall…"

Dawn came as a gradual lightening to a predictably gray, swirling, alien sky. Jagged peaks marched in increasing dimness to the horizon, finally losing themselves in mist and haze. Gnarled, twisted trees and coarse shrubbery sprouted haphazardly from the sands, lending a dry, arid ambiance to the depressingly dreary landscape. Scattered rock outcroppings assumed weird shapes with their wind-blasted surfaces, pock-marked from uncounted eons of abrasion, overhanging one another in jumbled masses of startling asymmetry. In fact, taken together, all the elements of this strange world gave an impression of vast desolation stretching drearily across leagues of uncounted miles.

Yet, if an air traveler, soaring high over the grey wasteland but just below the cloud overcast, happened to direct his gaze downwards, his eye would undoubtedly be attracted to a singular point on the ground, a spark of reflected light, like a jewel partially buried in the sand of a blasted desert. Drawing closer out of curiosity, this aeronaut would gradually be able to discern a disc shape reflecting the bleak light from the roiling clouds that created an oppressive blanket overhead. Closer still, he would finally realize this was not an ore deposit of a rare alien metal or some unexplainable geologic anomaly on the ground. In fact, it was a large spacecraft partially sunk into the dust of the planet.

It was like a huge plate turned upside down, with a small dome on top that pulsated slowly with light. The sides of the vessel were slightly blackened near the bottom edges, as from a past fire or other catastrophic event. A large window faced outwards into a clearing that was cluttered with tables, chairs, and other equipment that showed this was an inhabited campsite. A dusty, sloping ramp descended from a large open door in one side of the ship, from which people were just beginning to emerge.

The high-flying observer, before departing for further exploration of this blighted planet, would have to assume this was either a pioneer outpost of a distant civilization, or a wreck site sheltering a forlorn group of castaways. He would be correct on both counts. It was, of course, the lonely crash site of the Earth vessel Jupiter 2 and its crew of seven explorers struggling to survive in a hostile environment.

It was on October 16, 1997, three years ago, that the space family Robinson launched from Earth in their saucer-shaped starship, the Jupiter 2, on a mission to explore and colonize a far world orbiting the star Alpha Centauri, four and a half light years away from Earth. On board were five members of the Robinson family, their astronaut-pilot, a Class M-3 General Utility Non-Theorizing Environmental Robot, and, unknown to them, a reluctant stowaway who got caught aboard the ship just before it launched. The human members of the team had been placed into cryogenic deep-freeze for the long journey, all except for the stowaway. Shortly after takeoff, there had been a malfunction in the ship's navigation system that caused it to go wildly out of control. Despite the stowaway reviving the pilot from cryogenic sleep to take command of the ship, the Jupiter 2 entered an uncontrollable acceleration that propelled it far off course and into an unknown sector of the galaxy. With no frame of reference and no reliable star fixes, the space family wandered briefly through empty reaches of the galaxy, eventually crash landing on this alien world. Here, powerless to escape, they eked out a primitive existence as modern-day castaways, hopelessly lost in space.

The campsite surrounding the Jupiter 2 was slowly coming to life. Major Don West, the pilot and second in command, was the first to step down the ramp as the main door to the Jupiter slid open. He stretched his arms over his head and opened his mouth in a cavernous, blustering yawn, hardly paying any attention to the familiar, if desolate, landscape surrounding the ship. He allowed his gaze to scan the sky as he absently ruffled his short black hair. A small boy, approximately twelve years old, followed him eagerly out the open door and stood at the pilot's side, grinning with youthful enthusiasm at the dawn of a new day.

"Well, Will," Don smiled down at him. "What's your prognostication for today?"

Will Robinson looked up mischievously at his friend. "That sounds like something Dr. Smith would say."

"Hey, now," Don blurted with mock seriousness, cocking an exaggerated eyebrow at him. "Be nice. I can't deal with insults this early in the morning. After coffee, I'll be ready to trade barbs with you all day, young man!"

Will laughed good-naturedly at Don's joking manner, then turned his attention to the swirling clouds overhead. His hair stirred in the slight, dry breeze.

He pressed his lips together, considering. "It feels like maybe it might rain, but I'm going to check the weather station first. In fact, I'm almost sure of it! Wouldn't that be great?"

"Yeah," Don agreed, scratching his side. "Our water supply is down quite a bit. A few days of good, steady rainfall would be a blessing."

"What would be a blessing?"

Maureen Robinson had also emerged, looking fine and alert, and had overheard Don's comment. The blonde matron of the Robinson family--and wife to Professor John Robinson--had her hair done in her usual "up-do", and, if she found life difficult on an inhospitable world, there was no indication either in her face nor in the radiant smile she bestowed on the Major.

"'Weatherman Will' says it's going to rain," Don asserted, waving dramatically at the sky.

"Good," Maureen said with conviction, as if Will's prediction was a foregone conclusion. "I'm tired of our rationing, even though it's not that bad yet. A nice, long, hot shower would feel wonderful."

"In that case, I'd better get to work on building an ark."

"Oh, Don," she slapped him on the arm.

"See you, Mom!" Will blurted abruptly, launching himself excitedly down the entry ramp on which they were all standing.

"Will!" Maureen called after him. "We'll be having breakfast in an hour, so don't be gone too long!" She lifted her voice to carry after the rapidly receding figure of her son. "You know how your father likes having everyone around the table at the start of the day!"

Will spun and backpedaled towards the boulders and rock formations that surrounded the camp. "I know," he yelled, respect for his mother warring with his overwhelming desire to bolt. "It won't take long, I promise. I'll be right back!" With that, he whirled about and sprinted off, vanishing around a rock outcropping, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

"Be careful!" Maureen said, lifting a hand in the time-honored fashion of all mothers.

Don chuckled, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He's just going down into the valley. Tell you what. I can yell at him for you when breakfast is ready. For me," he paused and cast an appraising glance at a large vehicle parked nearby. "I'd better start laying out the tools for the tear-down of the Chariot's main generator. That damn thing hasn't worked for weeks, and I know John wants it running again as soon as possible."

The Chariot was an all-terrain exploration vehicle mounted on twin tracks, giving it a faint resemblance to Snow-Cats used on ski slopes back on Earth. Vaguely rectangular in shape, it was entirely composed of hardened safety glass set in a thin metal framework to give it additional strength. Several antennae and one large radar dish were set in the roof, along with a clear bubble top hatch. Huge headlights were mounted on the front. Three rows of seats could be seen inside, as well as a control console set between the front seats. The vehicle could be dismantled for easier storage within the limited cargo spaces of the ship.

"Yes, I do," Professor John Robinson agreed as he strode out the open door of the Jupiter, shrugging into his workaday shirt. Tall and slim, his dark hair carefully combed, he exuded command and authority, which was appropriate to the de facto leader of the marooned Earth expedition. Stepping up with his signature devilish smile, he leaned down to Maureen, giving her an enthusiastic kiss and encircling her waist with his arm. "Good morning, darling."

"Good morning!" she smiled up at him.

He looked over at West, who was picking at a fingernail with focused concentration. "Morning, Don. Once you get the Chariot fixed, I want to head south again to search the area where that vein of deutronium ran out. I really think it picks up again…we just didn't search far enough."

Don shook his head. "We exhausted that vein months ago," he noted while walking down the ramp and reaching under the camp table for a tool box. "Why do you think there might be more down there?" He grunted as he lifted the heavy metal box onto the table.

John jerked a thumb over his shoulder back at the ship. "You know how low we are on fuel. In a few weeks, we'll be so short on deutronium that we won't even be able to run the heater on the ship much less put it back into space. That vein was so large, I'm willing to bet there's more just waiting for us to find. It's statistically impossible it would exist all by itself."

"I thought Will was almost done with his solar cell experiment?" Penny Robinson asked as she came out into the morning air, a handful of music tapes in her hand. As the Robinson's youngest daughter, she was quickly growing past her childhood and into the first bloom of almost-adolescence. Her black hair was straight and curved around her face, her wide, alert eyes missed nothing, and her clothing was functional and clean.

"What are you talking about, dear?" Maureen asked, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Your father was talking about the ore we can refine into fuel for our engine."

"I know," Penny said with a slight pout, "but Will told me his solar cells could supply enough power for everything on the ship, once he could figure out how to make them work better!"

John shook his head. "Solar cells won't solve our propellant problem, Penny. The Jupiter's main engine runs on refined deutronium, not sunlight."

"Good morning!" Judy Robinson called as she swept out of the ship, buckling her belt around her waist. As the eldest daughter, she was a tall beauty with blonde hair and sparkling eyes, much like her mother's. "What's for breakfast? Hi, Don!" She danced over to the Major, who was still leaning over the open toolbox, to land a kiss on his cheek.

Startled, he straightened and grinned boyishly back at her. "Morning!"

"Ewww," Penny moaned, rolling her eyes in exasperation and skipping down the ramp to a nearby rock, where she sat down and arranged herself to sort through her tapes.

Maureen walked over to the outdoor storage shed and began pulling out dishes. "I'm thinking of having the vegetables we harvested yesterday, along with the last of our oatmeal, for breakfast. Penny! You can play with your tapes later. Give me a hand setting the table."

"Vegetables?" came an indignant, precisely articulated voice from the open door to the ship. "Oatmeal? How dreadful!" Dr. Zachary Smith stood just outside the Jupiter's main door, frowning disapprovingly at the sky. In his fifties, he was slightly wide in the middle, but otherwise appeared in good health. His eyebrows were arched superciliously, creating multiple creases in his broad forehead. His brown, wavy hair was combed back, and he stood regally straight, his hands clasped before him, as if he were a monarch disdainfully surveying the peasants of his realm. A military doctor, he had been trapped on the Jupiter when it launched from Earth years ago, and the events leading up to his presence on board had never been adequately explained. The adults in the family harbored some dark suspicions, but nothing had ever been proven. Consequently, they had been forced to allow him to become a member of their expedition, but this acceptance came harder to some of the Robinson party than to others.

For now, he merely seemed irritated, grumpy, and put upon. "There is no possible way anyone concerned about his fiber intake--such as myself--would call that unidentifiable pap…oatmeal!" Tossing his head, he marched stiffly down the ramp. "Eggs, madam, eggs! For protein, naturally. Additionally, bacon, crepes, strawberries, and peach yogurt would be a fine start to an otherwise dreary day."

"Now, Dr. Smith," Maureen smiled, inured as she was to the doctor's usual impossible requests. "You know we don't have any of those things any more."

"Yeah, Smith," Don noted sarcastically, hefting the toolbox and heading towards the Chariot. "Give it a rest…it's too early for your whining. Hey!" He stopped as if with a sudden, brilliant thought and turned back. "You know, I think I got your strawberries right here, Smith!" he said, grinning and making an unmistakable pointing gesture.

"Don!" Judy scolded, appalled.

West guffawed loudly as if savoring a victory and turned back towards the Chariot. Penny's hand went up to her mouth to stifle a giggle, and she dropped the plate she was laying on the table with a clatter.

"Manners, Major!" Smith snarled, his eyebrows crawling further up his forehead in affronted wrath. "_Your_ knowledge of fine foods is restricted to ground beef and soggy French fries! Uncultured boor! I'll have you know…"

"However, we do have coffee," Maureen interrupted brightly, setting the table and interposing herself to cut off what was likely to be another round of verbal sparring between Smith and West. "Would you like a cup?"

Dr. Smith dropped himself onto the nearest chair with a great show of weary resignation. "Madam, no offense, but that brown concoction we have been forced to consume in lieu of proper ground Arabica is hardly what I would dignify with the term 'coffee'. How-some-ever," he rolled his eyes melodramatically towards the now percolating pot, "perhaps with some additional sweetener," he softened his tone and pushed a mug forward eagerly with an ingratiating smile, "I can bear with the sacrifice to my discerning palate."

Don made a derisive noise from behind the Chariot. Dr. Smith pointedly ignored him while Maureen filled his cup.

"I'll go get those vegetables, mother," Judy said, turning and climbing back into the ship.

"Where's the Robot?" Professor Robinson asked, looking around. "I want to find out if he's finished analyzing those core samples I gave him."

Don's head poked out from behind the rear hood of the Chariot. "I heard Will ask him last night to monitor his weather station. He's probably been out there all night."

John straddled a chair and gratefully accepted a mug of steaming, black liquid from his wife, then cast a thoughtful look towards Don. "Why does the Robot need to monitor the station?"

"No idea." Don vanished again head and shoulders into the maintenance bay of the vehicle.

"I can go get him?" Penny suggested tentatively, dropping eating utensils on the table in an untidy heap and starting to move off in the direction Will had taken.

"Uh, uh," Maureen stopped her in her tracks. "Get back here and help me put breakfast on. We have seven hungry people to feed here before we start the day. And I have some research of my own to do _after _breakfast. Come on, now!"

"Aw, Mom," Penny moaned, but came back and began helping Judy, who had come out bearing a basket with vegetables in it.

"Research?" John asked meaningfully. "You mean, the garden…?"

"We'll discuss it after breakfast," Maureen said evasively.

After many years of marriage, the Professor knew precisely when not to pursue a subject with his wife, so he hunched over his coffee cup and said no more.

After the breakfast table was set and the food set out, Maureen walked to the edge of the camp. "Will?" she shouted, cupping a hand near the side of her mouth. "Will! Breakfast! Will!"

She jumped as the Robot rolled around a jagged outcropping, as if summoned by her shout. "Oh! You surprised me!"

"That does not compute," stated the Robot impassively and trundled past her with hardly a glance.

Maureen shook her head, smiled fondly at the retreating back of the automaton as if at an old joke, then filled her lungs to shout again for Will.

Six feet tall, moving on rollers attached to accordion-like legs, the B-9 Environmental Control Robot, the mechanical member of the Robinson expedition (and whose name was simply, Robot), was an imposing sight. Lights flashed on his barrel-shaped, silver torso. A disk-like plexi-glass bubble surmounted the torso, and the unblinking dual points of light that were his eyes swiveled alertly as he approached the family. Also within the glass bubble, sensor probes oscillated up and down like insect antennae. A large, translucent panel just under the bubble--and on his torso--housed a light display that flashed in coordination with his spoken words. Red circular claws were attached to arms similar in their accordion-like design to his legs. These arms were currently retracted into the silver torso in their usual stored position.

Originally, the Robot had been nothing more than a programmed, ambulatory computer, responding only as his software directed, incapable of autonomous thought or direction. He had been designed on Earth to assist the Robinsons in environmental analysis once they had achieved their goal of landing on a planet orbiting the star Alpha Centauri. However, inexplicably, he had exceeded the sum of his programs over the years in space and, at some point, became self-aware. None could say when this extraordinary event happened. However, since then, he had become such a close member of the family that none could remember a time when he was not a "Robinson," nor could they imagine a future without him. While he still was not able to feel the full range of human emotions, and still acted more the logical, computing machine than a thinking being, he nonetheless was able to express a surprising level of feeling for his adopted family, even the irascible Dr. Smith.

The Robot rolled up to the breakfast table where he stopped with a lurch, his eyes turning to survey the family.

"Now, see here you insensitive metal malingerer!" Smith growled disdainfully at the unassuming machine, waving his coffee mug and heedlessly splashing some of its contents out onto the table. "You were supposed to be fixing my cabin door! It still squeaks, and I cannot abide the assault on my nerves every time I slide it open or closed. Go fix it at once!"

"Not now," John snapped in exasperation, mopping up Smith's spill with a napkin. "Robot," he began. "About that core sample." A sudden thought occurred to him, and he changed the subject abruptly, looking with some curiosity at the android. "Robot, why were you at the weather station?"

The glowing eyes swiveled towards him. "Will asked me to monitor last night's parameters in real time to provide data for a hypothesis he is formulating."

John stared at him. "Okaaaay. More on that later, I suppose. Never mind. Right now, I need to know if you have completed the analysis on those core samples I gave you yesterday afternoon."

"Affirmative."

"Well?"

"Please specify your question."

Dr. Smith's eyes bulged and he inflated himself like an angry puffer fish, but the Professor interrupted the coming explosion with a wave of his hand, then spoke slowly and precisely. "What were the _results_ on your analysis of the core sample I gave you?"

"Core samples showed negative for radioactive ore. Core samples showed negative for uranium, deutronium, or other isotopes. Core samples were devoid of any traces of petroleum, natural gas, or geothermal evidence. All results, negative."

Overhearing, Don walked over, wiping his hands on a rag. "Negative, huh? I thought sure we had stumbled onto another find. The geology in the area was right; I don't see how we could have missed. Maybe you're right to check south again."

John frowned. "Maybe. I really thought we had something, there, too."

"I'll have that generator rebuilt by this evening, then we'll see if we can get some life back into our faithful tank. I suppose we'll have to go quite a bit further than our last mining operation. How about using the jet pack to scout ahead first before we use that gas-guzzling tractor?" he suggested, nodding at the Chariot.

The jet pack was a dual rocket device that could be worn on the back, enabling the "pilot" to fly in a vertical, standing position over the ground at low altitudes. Both Don and John were qualified to operate the pack, and it had been used numerous times on search missions to cover far more terrain than could be explored in the same time via Chariot.

"Yes," agreed John. "That makes sense. Let's get some breakfast first, and I'll help you with the generator. Then we'll put together another exploration plan."

The family was settling down to the table as Will re-entered the campsite, looking absorbed at a clipboard where he had written various notes and equations. The Robot, who had moved away near the main window of the Jupiter, stood still, clicking and whirring to himself. If he remembered Smith's direction to fix his squeaking door, he deliberately ignored it.

"Well, William!" Dr. Smith beamed warmly at the boy, still his favorite member of the Robinson company. "And what does our weather prognosticator have to say on this beautiful spring morning? Some delightful rain to water our gardens, perhaps? Or just balmy breezes and mellow sunshine to gently tan away our unhealthful winter pallor?"

"Fine spring morning?" West blurted, looking up at the gray overcast, then giving Smith his best "you're-an-idiot" look, which Dr. Smith disregarded.

Will sat down at his usual spot at the table without answering. Maureen looked at him curiously. "Will? Dr. Smith was asking a question. I think it would be polite to answer, wouldn't you?"

Will set down his clipboard and ignored Penny, who had made a face at him. "Sorry, Mom. Sorry Dr. Smith."

"What is it, son?" Professor Robinson asked, looking down the length of the table, sensing his son's unusual preoccupation.

"Well, it's just preliminary," Will began.

"What's preliminary?"

Will looked up at his family. "Well, according to my observations, and these figures, the temperature is going steadily down, not up."

Dr. Smith took another sip of coffee. "Nonsense, my dear boy. Anyone can see we are quickly leaving this dreadful winter behind us, with splendid days of basking in the sun ahead." However, Smith threw a glance upward at the roiling gray masses overhead. "Although, there does seem to be a decided nip remaining in the air."

"Well," Will repeated. "I don't know. Something is happening. I've been recording a steady drop in average temperature every day for the last two weeks. The Robot confirmed my findings last night. It's kind of like, I don't know, like another winter is coming."

"Preposterous," Smith declared. "Another winter, indeed. This last one was bad enough. We're just having a cold snap before spring sets in."

John looked thoughtful, cupping his coffee cup in both hands. "I'm afraid I have to side with Dr. Smith's opinion. Could just be an irregularity. Nothing else would make sense. We know how unstable this planet's orbit is."

"Quite right!" Smith agreed. "Just some unseasonable cold weather. I'm sure it'll warm up nicely. I'm starved, madam! What's for breakfast, again?"

John watched Will's somewhat crestfallen expression. "Let's you and I take another look at your findings after breakfast and we'll see if we can decipher this mystery. I'm sure they're accurate, we're just not analyzing them correctly. We'll get the Robot to help."

Will took up his spoon as Maureen placed a plate of food before him, but he still appeared preoccupied. complain

Breakfast proceeded as usual. Casual conversation was interspersed with the usual mild complaining from Dr. Smith about the quality of their food, and Don complained about Smith's complaining when he was not discussing technical problems with John. Judy, Maureen, and Penny chattered on about various domestic subjects, while Will remained uncommunicative, staring at his clipboard and studying his meticulously collected data.

As everyone helped clean up following the meal, except Dr. Smith, who excused himself into his cabin, grumbling loudly of a mild and most likely imaginary stomach upset, Maureen slid close to John.

"John," she whispered, out of earshot of the others while they were placing the cleaned plates back in the storage shed. "Could Will be onto something? You know the hydroponic garden is showing signs of returning dormancy, like at the beginning of last winter. If it keeps up, we'll have to bring it back inside or rebuild the greenhouse."

John nodded, laying a stack of dishes on an empty shelf. "Well, we could pull out the tarps again and set up the greenhouse, but I doubt this will go on much longer. Could there be any other reason for the problem in the hydroponics?"

"I don't know," Maureen answered but said no more. John could see she was unconvinced and not a little concerned. He had to admit to himself that anything affecting their continued food supply made him worry, too.

* * * *

"Volcanic activity is beyond sensor range, but its effects here are observable, increasing, and planet-wide. Effects on global temperature are also increasing at a predictable rate and will influence our survival estimates in a negative fashion."

It was night, several weeks later. The B-9 Environmental Control Robot was performing its primary function: analyzing the environment and reporting results. However, the results were none too welcome to any of the Robinsons, all of whom were sitting in comfortable chairs on the main deck of the Jupiter 2 and listening to the Robot's information. Maureen, Judy, Penny, and Will were wearing light sweaters against the moderate chill inside the spacecraft. John had reduced electrical consumption by reducing life support heating, and everyone was feeling the effects. Dr. Smith was sitting, bundled up in blankets with only his unhappy face showing, sniffing wetly. Both John and Don were wearing light jackets. Professor Robinson was sitting with his chin on his fist, staring at the Robot and listening to his report.

"So," John said once the Robot concluded, "that's what's going on around here. Volcanoes are blanketing the planet in a shroud of dust, sending worldwide average temperatures plummeting."

"That's why my weather analysis was giving those results!" Will interjected. "I knew my data couldn't be wrong about temperatures. It _is_ getting colder!"

"But the rate of change is what's puzzling," Professor Robinson mused. "It's happening too fast. All our computer models have not predicted this. We should be well into the 70's outside, instead of hovering in the mid-forties."

"Must be some powerful volcanoes to be causing all this," West said. He was standing behind the seat occupied by Judy, who was hugging herself tightly against the chill.

The Robot continued. "Observed data would point to a major rift in the planet's outer crust. A single volcano could not be the cause. It would have to be hundreds, perhaps thousands of volcanoes."

"I still find it difficult to believe we would not have detected this earlier," John said, stroking his chin with thumb and forefinger, his face creased with worry.

"This is a miserable world," Dr. Smith wailed, blowing his nose thunderously into a tissue. "Is there no respite for weary castaways? I'm telling you, we're doomed. Doomed! I've known it all along."

"Button it, Smith," Don growled. "We don't need panic here. We need some answers."

"And maybe sooner than we thought," Maureen added. Seated next to John, she had a thin blanket draped over her shoulders. "Robot, can you tell us what will happen if conditions continue as they are, I mean with the increasing high altitude cloud cover, or smoke, or whatever it is? What does it really mean for us? Can you extrapolate any conclusions?"

The glowing eyes swiveled towards her. "My computer models predict planetary drops in temperature of 40 to 50 degrees Fahrenheit on the average per year over the next 10 to 15 years."

John's hand dropped to his lap. "What? Then that means…"

"This planet may be incapable of supporting carbon-based life in the very near future."

Silence reigned on the main deck, disturbed only by Smith's occasional sniffs.

"What does he mean exactly?" Penny asked finally when no one said anything, looking scared. "We can't live here anymore?"

John straightened in his chair. "That kind of climatic change will cause advancing ice packs from the poles, very little sun, plummeting temperatures, snow, ice storms, toxic volcanic gases. For many years. Is that how you read it, Robot?"

"Affirmative, Professor."

"It's like what happened to the dinosaurs on Earth, but on a smaller scale," Will mused to himself. "Or maybe a bigger one…"

"I thought dinosaur extinction was due to an asteroid impact?" Judy said, pulling her jacket more tightly about her.

"It doesn't matter, young lady," Dr. Smith exclaimed, rising from his seat in alarm. "The fact of the matter is that dinosaurs became extinct, as we all will be if we remain on this misbegotten world. Doomed!" His voice dropped to a sepulchral whisper. "We are the dinosaurs on this world, and we're doomed! This planet is bent on destroying us!"

"We are _not_ dinosaurs!" Maureen scoffed wearily. "Really, Dr. Smith. You're scaring the children."

"Damn right we're not dinosaurs!" Don added. "We just have to think this through."

"I have an additional conclusion," the Robot said, and an odd note of concern had crept into his metallic voice, "although my data is insufficient to support it as anything other than an opinion."

"Mental midget!" Smith exploded. "Opinion, indeed. You are incapable of having any opinions other than the ones I deign to give you! Presumptuous popinjay."

"Please, Dr. Smith," John said despairingly. "Hear him out. What's your opinion, Robot?"

The eye-lights surveyed the family. "Volcanic activity on a scale to affect this level of climate change might be sufficient to cause the breakup of this small planetary body." He paused. "Just a thought."

"_What?"_ Smith bawled. The rest of the family looked at each other, horror reflecting in their eyes.

"Again," the Robot added, somewhat sheepishly, "it's just an opinion."

"It's something to think about, anyway," Maureen said, looking about the room, the calm in her voice soothing. "Let's not jump to conclusions just yet. The question still remains: what do we do about this? It sounds like we can't stay here anymore, but we can't leave, either. We hardly have enough fuel to heat the Jupiter, much less fly it."

"Fuel!" Professor Robinson slammed a hand suddenly and with rarely seen emotion into the arm of the chair he was in, making everyone jump. He leaped to his feet and paced the deck. "We need fuel! We need it to heat the ship, make our meals, power the force field generator, recharge our lasers, and run the damn engine!" He whirled to face a startled Major West. "Don, I'm tired of negative results. I'm tired of broken Chariot generators, withering hydroponic gardens, water shortages, and a spacecraft that won't fly. We need to put our heads together and start becoming active, rather than reactive. I want to find something that will power this ship!"

West nodded, watching the Professor carefully. "Okay. Okay. You're right there. You did want to go south beyond our previous mining locations. Maybe the deutronium vein picks up down there somewhere. It was our best vein until it ran out and those monster plants ate all our processed fuel!"

"Now, that wasn't anyone's fault," Maureen soothed as Judy glanced down guiltily.

Don glared pointedly at Smith. "I disagree."

"I had nothing to do with that!" Smith defended himself indignantly. "It was her fault for getting trapped in the first place!" He nodded at Judy, who shrunk even further into the chair.

The family all recalled the time that "monster" plants temporarily took over their world. Dr. Smith had discovered plants that were able to duplicate anything that was placed close enough for them to engorge. However, these plants also had an appetite for deutronium fuel as fertilizer. Judy had somehow fallen under the spell of the plants and walked into their midst, after which she was overcome with the fumes from the plants and fell asleep inside a huge flower. Dr. Smith had observed this and was instantly plotting to use this information to blackmail Professor Robinson into allowing Major West to fly him in the Jupiter back to Earth. However, unknown to Smith, the plant was somehow able to duplicate Judy and send her replica to the Jupiter 2 to obtain all the family's supply of deutronium. The replica fed all of the deutronium supply to the plants, allowing them to grow, multiply, and completely cover the spaceship. The Professor and Don ended up destroying the plants so they could rescue the real Judy, but the deutronium was completely gone.

"All right, that's enough," John snapped. "I want everyone's mind in the game here. What's past is past, and we need to look forward. Our very survival is in question. We can't search the entire planet foot by foot. So, how do we search it? Where do we find deutronium ore?"

"If it's even here!" Dr. Smith whimpered, gathering his blanket more tightly about him and sneezing. "Maybe there's no more deutronium! What if there's no more at all?"

"Shut _up_, Smith," West growled irritably, glaring at him.

Will raised his head and spoke to the Robot. "Robot," he said, "can you run any kind of program that would tell us where we should look? Like, a prediction or something?"

"With a larger cross-section of core samples, a statistical analysis may reveal the most likely locations for distant deutronium veins."

"You mean a best-guess on where to go looking," Don said.

"That is what I said," the Robot replied loftily.

"What would you need for your analysis?" John asked, looking intently at the Robot.

"Data could be extracted from a randomized, 360 degree search pattern. Core samples would have to be brought to me for study. In order to minimize the effect of unwanted variables and establish inferential patterns correlating variance factors and mean square weighted deviations…"

"Damn it, Robot," an exasperated West finally broke in, running a hand through his hair. "You're talking in Greek or something. Simple English, please! What do you _need_?"

The eyes glowed in the bubble top. "I need twelve core samples, taken at equal distances from the Jupiter 2 at a radius of ten nautical miles. That should do it."

"That's a little over sixty miles in circumference," John quickly calculated. "Don, what do you think?"

West pondered. "Sixty miles? It would take a couple of days, maybe a week, and a completely full fuel tank in the Chariot, maybe more. Do we really want to go joy-riding like that when our fuel is already low?"

"We have to consider that's only for the search," Maureen added, looking at her husband. "We still have to get to the deutronium site once we think we've found it. There are no guarantees we'll find anything after all that effort."

John held up a hand. "Let's take it one step at a time, and not doing anything is not an option. All right." He towered over his group, his eyes alight with a decisive fire. The others had straightened, watching him, hope dawning in their eyes. "Will, how would you like to do a breakdown of our main fuel supply, figuring our current rate of daily consumption, with an eye to answer the following question: do we actually have the fuel to do a search in the Chariot, and how will that impact our dwindling reserves?"

Will's face had brightened at the prospect of one of his favorite exercises: mathematical analysis. "Yeah, it would be easy! I could work up some algorithms to account for the Jupiter's electrical consumption on a daily basis, add in the Chariot's fuel consumption based on average speeds and loads…well, I'd have to figure variables for uneven terrain…"

Don threw both his hands in the air, grinning. "Okay, Will, I think we got the picture. You can do it." He turned towards the Professor, shaking his head in exaggerated concern. "John, we gotta get this boy out more. He's starting to sound like the Robot!"

"I resent that remark," the Robot chimed in, as if on cue.

The family broke out in laughter, and the tension seemed to recede significantly. Will was blushing through his grin, the freckles standing out on his face. More tasks were assigned as Professor Robinson continued fleshing out his plan. He himself would work up the search grid and give the data to Will. Don would add in information on Chariot capabilities and conduct an initial survey of the planned search path via jet pack. Maureen and the girls would evaluate food production, hydroponics, and supply. The Robot would develop search algorithms with Will. And even Dr. Smith had a job: stay out of the way! He complained loudly and indignantly at this outcome, much to Major West's amusement.

"All right, people," John finally said, clearly wrapping up the family gathering and rubbing his hands together as if savoring the challenge ahead. "We have a lot of work to start tomorrow. I suggest we get some sleep. Everyone set your alarms for an early wakeup!"

* * * *

Preparations were in high gear, and two days had passed of frenzied but productive activity. Will's analysis showed they could operate the Chariot on the planned profile without seriously impacting their dwindling fuel supply. Don completed his jet-pack survey in record time. He traveled the sixty mile circle at an altitude of 1000 feet, successfully mapping out the most economic route for the Chariot to use that would optimize time and fuel. Food was a concern, but thanks to Maureen's thorough work in previous weeks to preserve and protect their existing supplies, the question of food was not worrisome as yet. With the help of the Robot, Maureen, Judy, and Penny had re-erected the greenhouse over the hydroponic tables, and their garden had actually started recovering from its former blight.

However, in spite of the positive successes the family was realizing towards their goals, they could not help but notice how climate conditions were noticeably deteriorating. Nightly temperatures were below freezing and getting steadily colder, while daytime temperatures hardly allowed thawing out from the previous night. The castaways had not seen sunshine in weeks owing to the grayish-brown, swirling masses that sailed high overhead in the upper winds, blanketing them in a pall of smoke and dust. A smell of sulfur was in the winds that seemed to blow incessantly from the north, seemingly confirming the Robot's conclusion that volcanic activity was transforming their planet at an alarming rate.

Even more compelling, however, was the evidence of the flakes of gray dust that floated incessantly down from the heavens, blanketing the silver hull of the Jupiter 2 in a coating of volcanic ash. Somewhere, great geysers of steam and smoke were pouring ash into the planet's atmosphere, shrouding it in a poisonous heat-reflecting shield of particulates and deadly gasses.

Will took it upon himself to more closely monitor seismic activity and discovered their little world was convulsing far beyond their horizon. He registered readings of distant earthquakes that sent tremors all the way to the planetary core, and they seemed to be increasing in intensity. In fact, after his report, many in the family felt or imagined they could feel the faint echoes of the subterranean vibrations in the very ground surrounding the ship. Dr. Smith swore he heard the world cracking under his feet and expected at any moment to be swallowed into a gaping crevasse that might unexpectedly open under him. He consequently rarely left the "safe" confines of the ship, preferring to watch--and criticize--the family's activities through the large main viewport.

Two days had passed, and a gray, dismal dawn had once again come to the Robinson camp, but there was great activity outside their spaceship. There was a constant stream of people, boxes, and equipment to the Chariot that was parked next to the boarding ramp of the spaceship. In spite of the precarious nature of their position, the entire family seemed galvanized with adrenalin and excitement over the events that were transforming their lives, and how they were reacting to it.

"That's it, I think," Major West called, throwing a large square container through the open transparent door of the Chariot and into the flailing arms of Dr. Smith, who had been coaxed out of the ship to help out with a variety of polite requests (from Maureen) to threats of violence (from Don). He nearly toppled backwards over the bench upon which he was sitting.

Will was sitting in the most rearward bench, piling the equipment in a stack as he received them from the doctor. "Hey!" he yelped as Smith nearly landed in his lap.

"Damn you, Major!" Smith cried out angrily, regaining his balance and juggling the container. "You did that on purpose! Watch what you're doing!" He passed the box over the bench to Will, then arched his back with a grimace. "Oh, my back is about to give out with all this lifting. A man of my quality, reduced to being a conveyor belt! Indeed!"

John, standing next to the Chariot, made a last flourished checkmark on a clipboard, agreeing with West and ignoring the still spluttering Smith. "You're right. That completes it. Everything's on board except the food. Maureen!" he called, turning towards the Jupiter's open door.

Maureen came down to the Chariot, followed by Judy. They both were carrying bulging boxes of processed food. "Here you go, dear. This is all of it."

The Professor sized up the boxes. "You pack well. Okay, put them inside."

"Head's up, Smith, more cargo inbound!" West called as he hefted another box.

"No!" Smith cried in distress. "Just a second. Will! You must help me here...this is too much…"

Will pushed around some crates inside the Chariot, elbowing past the Robot, who was already inside the rear of the tightly cramped interior. "Dr. Smith, I think it would be easier if you went outside, and I'll tie them down on the floor there with some straps."

"Brilliant idea!" Smith said in relief. "I knew I could count on you for some common sense. I'll just step outside and let you secure this lot. Young lady!" he called, reaching for Judy, who was standing just outside the Chariot's door. "Help me out! Out of my way, Major!" He brushed past Don and extended both arms towards Judy, who grasped them and began pulling him out. "Oh, dear!" he whimpered, groaning loudly. "I am ruptured! Oh, my back! Delicately, my dear, delicately!"

"I've got you," Judy assured him, struggling to keep the doctor upright, who creakily negotiated the entry ladder to step out on the ground. He overbalanced onto Judy, nearly taking them both to the ground, but West stepped in and wrapped his arms around both, preventing the fall.

"C'mon, Smith!" he snapped irritably. "Stand up, for crying out loud!"

"Thank you, my dear!" Smith wheezed in appreciation to Judy, straightening up after achieving his herculean task of exiting the Chariot. "I beg your pardon. Such a sturdy young lady." He shook himself away from West's grasp. "No thanks to you, Major!" he huffed and stalked off, mumbling to himself. Judy smiled demurely up at Don, whose arm was still around her waist.

"That's good, Don," she said, her eyes twinkling. "I'm all right now."

"Come on, Don," John rasped, clearing his throat meaningfully. "Let's mount up and get this show on the road."

"Right!" Don chuckled. "Let's do this!"

At that, the Professor turned and grabbed a startled Maureen by the shoulders, kissing her soundly. "No long goodbyes, darling," he said, pulling back. "We need to get going. This shouldn't take more than four days, and we'll be within radio range the whole time. Wish us luck!"

"Always!" she said, still glowing from the kiss. "Hurry home, dear!"

"Count on it."

"Bye, Don!" Judy said, twining her arms around Don's neck. "Take care of Dad for me!"

West returned her embrace. "You can count on _that!_"

"Dad, it's not fair that you won't let me go," Will pouted loudly, climbing down from the Chariot after finishing his work inside. "I could really help out there!"

John Robinson knelt to look at his son level in the eyes, grasping him by the shoulders. "Now, you know why. I'm counting on you to keep us up to date with the weather, and I need you to finish those solar cells!"

"They won't work without sun," Will observed, glancing longingly at the dirty, leaden sky.

"Just get them done," Robinson grinned. "You never know when they might come in handy. I can't afford not to explore all options at this stage, you know that."

"All right," Will surrendered glumly, tossing his arms in barely concealed frustration.

"Besides, I need you to help your mother take care of things here. Don, the Robot, and I can handle this survey."

Dr. Smith piped up from a nearby lounge chair, where he had deposited himself after his exertions. "Yes, quite right! You three go tearing about the countryside in that noisome glass-covered tank, and we will hold down the fort right here! Capital plan!"

"Thank you, Dr. Smith, for your stamp of approval," John acknowledged dryly. "I'm sure you will courageously 'hold down the fort' for us." He turned to Major West. "All right, Don? Let's get to it."

Quickly mounting the Chariot to waves and farewells, they closed the side door, then climbed into the front seats of the vehicle, the Professor taking the driver's seat, and Don, the seat next to him. John hit the starter and the Chariot thundered to life. With a jaunty wave over his shoulder, he engaged the tracks, pushed the drive levers forward, and the Chariot bounced off into the wasteland. The last view they had of them was that of the Robot in the rear of the Chariot, tossing a claw upwards in farewell.

"Well," Maureen sighed as she watched them go and the noise of the motor faded into the distance, "that's it. Come on, girls, we have chores to do. This volcanic ash is getting into everything, and I've a mind to do some spring cleaning inside the ship."

"Mom," said Will, "can I work on the engine performance computers?"

That stopped Maureen as she was heading into the Jupiter behind her daughters. She turned to look curiously at her son. "What?"

"The engine performance computers. I'd like to download from data from them."

"The _ship's_ performance computers?"

"Yeah."

Baffled, she looked at him. "Now, Will, why in the world do you want to work on those things? They have no function if the engine isn't running. Besides, your father told you to keep working on the solar cells."

"I know," Will pleaded. "But I don't have much more work to do on those cells, and I have a theory about, umm, something, that I'd like to explore. I might be able to find out some information from the engine performance buffers that might help us."

Maureen cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. "Help us to do what? Have you spoken to your father about this?"

"No. He was all preoccupied about this survey, and I didn't want to bother him. Please, Mom," he whined. "I promise not to break anything." He could see her wavering. "I'll do the solar cell work, too, just later. It could be important! Please, Mom!"

Maureen saw his determination and knew he would probably do it anyway, regardless of what she said. "Fine," she sighed, "I don't see any problem. But don't take them apart, and don't modify anything! And next time," she shook a finger accusingly at him, "you ask your father first. I find it extremely suspicious that you should ask about this _after_ he goes off on a four-day trip. You won't mind if I mention it to him the next time we have a radio contact, will you?"

Will beamed a broad smile, clearly reveling in his victory. "Nope, and thanks, Mom! He won't mind. And I won't break anything, really," he repeated. "I just want to test a theory I have. It shouldn't take long."

"Good for you, William!" Smith called approvingly from his chair, where he was clearly settling in for a nap. "The scientific method! Discovery and experimentation! That's the stuff! However," he squinted at the sky, "first be a good lad and get me an umbrella and a towel. This infernal ash is getting all over me!"

"Yes, Dr. Smith."

* * * *

"Mom, they're back!"

It was early morning, and Penny had run into the ship, shouting in excitement. The rest of the family came boiling up from the lower deck via elevator and ladder, blinking in surprise. Sure enough, looking out the main viewport of the Jupiter, the Chariot was parked in front of the campsite, and the two explorers were already disembarking.

Major West and Professor Robinson had only been gone two days. They had checked-in regularly via radio, but transmissions were brief and extremely garbled due to the havoc being wrought in the atmosphere from static discharges caused by volcanic ash. There was never any mention of returning so early; Maureen was happily surprised but concerned at the same time as to what would have brought the men back early from their explorations.

Greetings were quickly exchanged, and Maureen's doubts were quickly allayed by the sight of the schoolboy grins both John and Don were sporting.

After embracing, Maureen smiled up at her husband. "You look like you won a lottery!"

Professor Robinson's eyes were twinkling. "Yes, I'll have to say that, in a way, we did!"

"Oh, John, that's wonderful!" Maureen gushed. "How much deutronium did you find? Where is it?"

"Well," he drawled. "That's a good news, bad news story."

Doubt crept into Maureen's voice. "I hate it when you do that." She stepped away and gave him a steely look. "All right, buster. Spill it. What's this all about?"

"C'mon, everyone," John waved towards the table sitting near the viewport. "Let's sit down and talk. I'm beat. Is that coffee ready?"

Once everyone was comfortably seated around their outdoor dining table with steaming mugs of coffee, John continued. "We _did_ find indications of deutronium. On our first day out, the Robot picked up traces on nearly the very first core sample we took. By taking successive samples, we followed the ore's signature down to the south, past our last mining operation, into that mostly flat desert that begins about 20 miles from here."

"It's out there all right," Don added, setting his coffee mug back on the table, wrapping his hands gratefully around it. "A large deposit of deutronium, but the indications are that it is at least four to five hundred miles away, somewhere in the desert."

"How far out did you go?" Judy asked, accepting a mug of tea from her mother.

"The Robot triangulated the readings he was getting, and we pressed ahead until we reached our turn-around point. We were nowhere near the deposit, if it exists. We had to turn around and use what remained in the Chariot's fuel tanks to get back here."

"Then," Maureen concluded, her hopes fading, "it doesn't do us any good, does it? It's too far to reach with the Chariot. Even if you could take enough fuel, how would you get the deutronium back here?"

"Absolutely true," Don agreed cheerily. "There's no way we can get there and conduct a mining operation, then return." He leaned forward suggestively. "If we have to rely on the Chariot."

"But," Judy said, looking at West oddly, "even the jet pack isn't an option. We don't have any other way of transportation to get that far, unless…" She stopped abruptly.

"Yes?" Don inquired attentively. "Judy has a suggestion?"

"Well, the only thing that might reach that distance, I mean, the only thing really, would be…"

"Yes?" Don said again, making a "come hither" motion with his hand.

Several others in the family, coming to the same conclusion, turned to look behind them at their vessel.

"Yes, the ship," John nodded, keeping his attention on his family. "We may have enough fuel to launch and fly to wherever the deutronium is. Space flight is out of the question, but Don and I agree that we might be able to do a brief atmospheric flight…about five or six hundred miles."

"But, what would that do to our fuel supply?" Maureen asked.

"Well," John mused, cocking his head, "assuming we do have enough fuel, it would be an all or nothing attempt. Either we launch and find the deutronium ore, or we launch and find nothing. In that case, we're in serious trouble."

"And use up what little fuel we depend upon for survival?" Dr. Smith, who had been frowning skeptically, looked appalled. "We will do no such thing. Use up all our fuel on a wild goose chase? Rubbish! We should stay right here and prepare ourselves for the coming ice age. We should hoard our food and fuel, and prepare! What you're proposing is a suicide run!"

"There _is_ something to that line of thought," John admitted, then hastily added, "I mean, the part about hunkering down and preparing, not the suicide part. The problem is that we may not be able to survive whatever ice age is enfolding this planet. It might go away, or it might not. We could spend years trying to figure it out, and then find out too late that we should have left when we had the chance."

Don continued the line of thought. "We could also be overcome by the volcanic fumes, which are definitely toxic. The atmosphere could become poisonous to us, in a much shorter period of time."

"Or, what happens if the planet is breaking up?" Will said, warming to the disaster scenarios being discussed. "The tectonic activity I've been monitoring is really strong and increasing. Could that happen, you think? A planet breakup?"

John raised his hand. "All of these things _could_ happen. But that leaves the question: do we become proactive and chart our own course, or do we continue to react to natural events over which we have no control? In other words, do we stay, or do we take the opportunity now to get off this world and into space again?"

Still outraged, Smith opened his mouth to argue, and then stopped himself with a sudden thought. Drawing back, he narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the Professor intently. "And, if I may be so bold, Professor Robinson," he paused meaningfully, "where would we go, if, theoretically, we could leave this wretched planet?"

Silence reigned in the group. All eyes were on John Robinson. Everyone knew of his dedication to the mission: reach Alpha Centauri to colonize whatever habitable planet was found there, then send word back to Earth. This was the mission of the space family Robinson, and John Robinson was the man who had been picked to lead the mission and carry the hopes and prayers of a dying, overpopulated Earth to the stars. At the same time, everyone knew Dr. Smith's sole, overriding desire for the past three years was to return to Earth, any way he could. The Professor looked away from the group, unaccountably hesitant to voice what might be an unpopular view. He seemed to gather himself, took a breath, and was about to speak.

Will's voice interrupted whatever John was about to say. "Dad."

"Yes, Will?" he answered wearily, turning to his precocious boy.

Will uncertainly regarded his father's face.

"Will?" Maureen asked, seeing the familiar signs in her son that he had something important to say. "You can tell us. What's on your mind?"

"I know where we are." His eyes appeared large and getting larger as he looked from one to another.

Will's seemingly random statement took everyone by surprise, and their blank return stares showed they had no idea what he was talking about.

Finally, Maureen said softly, "What do you mean, you know where we are?"

"Well," he began, stammering slightly with the whole family gaping at him, "I guess that's not right. I guess what I mean to say is that…I know where Earth is. Um, and how to get there."

No one said anything until John said patiently, "Son, we have been lost in space for nearly four years. The navigational fix on our solar system was lost when we went out of control at launch and encountered the meteor storm. There is no way to find Earth again because we don't know where _we_ are. We have no frame of reference. You know that." Yet, he was watching his son carefully.

Will looked uncomfortable, as he always did when disagreeing with his father. "But I kind of know where we are."

"All right, son," John said, fully attentive. "Out with it. What are you trying to tell us?"

Will plunged ahead. "When I told Mom I wanted to have a look through the engine performance buffers, I just wanted to see if they had any usable memory circuits I could use in my solar experiments. I would have asked before I took them!" he exclaimed in response to the stern look darkening his father's brow. "Really, I would have! But, when I looked at them, I discovered a lot of the circuits were still good! I mean, they still had uncorrupted data in them stored from our flight. So, I decided not to ask to use them."

Don shook his head, puzzled. "Will, what do engine control memory circuits have to do with what we're talking about here?"

"I decided instead to copy all the data into my computer. I just was curious to see what was in them. I ran a tracking routine and a linear analysis on all of it. By tracking every single engine parameter, I could develop a history of the engine operation. You know, like when the engine surged, when we shut it down, when we started it, when we went to full power, and when we went to idle. Stuff like that."

"So?" Don prompted with interest.

Will was warming to his subject. "I correlated engine performance with accelerations and decelerations, in all axes. Our navigation computers had flight parameter data, so I downloaded that, too, and cross-referenced it with the engine data. After a while, I saw a pattern developing, like a line of where the ship had to be if a certain kind of acceleration was happening. I tracked it from when we wrecked on this planet, back through atmospheric entry, traveling through space, through the meteor shower, and even back to our launch from Earth!"

"Do you mean you followed the course of the ship from Earth to here based on engine parameters?" Don asked dubiously. "That doesn't sound possible…" He trailed off, as if he began to see where Will was going.

"That's right, Don!" Will said with conviction. "That's exactly right! I mean, it is possible!"

"And did you tie it in with a navigation solution somehow?" John asked.

"I just commanded the computer to use all that information to calculate an origin point, express it in celestial coordinates, and print out the numbers."

"And did it?"

"Yes, sir."

Professor Robinson's gaze intensified. "And what did you do with these celestial coordinates?"

"Well," Will slowly pointed at his telescope, unnoticed up until now, that sat nearby on splayed tripod legs, pointing upwards. Wires were running from a computer to the timing mechanism that kept the telescope pointed at one area of the sky despite the rotation of the planet. Everyone looked up; the sky was still completely overcast.

Dr. Smith was staring upwards at the sky. "William, do you mean to say that…?"

"Yes, sir. I plugged the numbers into the telescope's orientation and timing mechanism. My telescope…well, it's pointing directly at our sun, and our solar system."

"It is not," Penny disagreed, frowning. "You can't see anything through the clouds."

Will scoffed dismissively. "Of course not, dummy. But it's pointing to where the sun would be if there weren't any clouds! Jeez."

Professor Robinson was massaging his chin with two fingers of his right hand. "And you can feed that fix into the ship's navigation computer." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you sure of this?"

"Yes, sir."

Dr. Smith's eyes traced the imaginary line that ran from the lens of the telescope and extended it into the clouds overhead. "Earth…?" He stared up in disbelief.

Penny looked at her mother. "Does that mean we know the way home?"

Maureen said nothing. She looked at her husband, who was watching Will.

"Yes," John finally said after another pause, nodding slowly and gazing at his family. "If we find fuel," he stopped and took a deep breath, then spoke very slowly, "I think it might be time to go home."

There was a serious pause, then the entire table erupted in frenzied cheering.

John smiled.

35


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note to my Patient Readers_: This note should have appeared in chapter one to let you know what to expect in the coming weeks. I shall now correct this omission! This entire work--Lost in Space, The Return--will comprise 12 chapters and an epilogue. The story is complete. I am working on fine-tuning all subsequent chapters and plan to upload one chapter approximately every week, if not sooner. This is my goal, thereby paralleling that familiar quote at the end of every LIS episode:

**To be continued NEXT WEEK!**

**Same time, same channel!**

To wit: I now submit for your review, Chapter Two. Enjoy the journey!

Chapter Two: Launch Day

The following day, with the decision to leave having been made, the Jupiter campsite resembled nothing as much as a disturbed ant hill, with everyone running to and fro on their respective tasks and errands.

Despite the chill in the air, West was sweating profusely in his T-shirt as he and John dismantled the Chariot. Their language was loud, colorful, and piratical as they threw themselves into the heavy-duty task, earning them both stern looks from Maureen, and surreptitious giggles from Penny and Will. Components littered the ground, glass panels were stacked against a nearby rock outcropping, the motor was hanging unceremoniously from the engine lift, tools were scattered everywhere, and the main treads lay off to one side in an untidy pile.

Will and Judy were working together at the navigation console inside the ship. They had already reassembled the circular console in the center of the main deck of the Jupiter, which had been previously taken apart and stored to make more living space on the flight deck. Will was underneath sorting through seemingly miles of power and information cables. Judy was busy running computer subroutines to fine tune Will's previous calculations, checking and cross-checking thousands of variables that their very lives might depend on.

Penny, Maureen, and a loudly complaining Dr. Smith were moving the whole campsite back into the Jupiter. Tables, chairs, awnings, the remains of the outdoor hydroponic garden, and the force-field generator were carried, dragged, or otherwise manhandled into the ship and secured in the limited hold space of the Jupiter. The Robot was trundling back and forth, carrying materials that were too large for the women—or too "bulky" for Dr. Smith's "delicate" back—or gliding over to John and Don to assist with the heavier lifting required for some of the bigger parts from the Chariot.

"Oh, I am completely exhausted!" panted Dr. Smith, leaning against the main doorway of the Jupiter and massaging his back. "I cannot put another foot forward nor lift another heavy burden. I really must rest!"  
"Now, Dr. Smith," Maureen chided, passing him with several bundles in her arms. "We'll have lunch in another half hour. When I come back, just help me move the clothes washer back into the ship. It's on wheels, so I'll push if you'll just guide it."

"Make Smith push it!" Don yelled, wiping his brow with a forearm and brandishing a socket wrench. "Come on, Smith! You're going home! Your fondest wish! Move like you _want_ it to happen!"

"Bah, Major!" Smith answered wrathfully. "I have limits, even when it comes to leaving this dreary rock."

However, when Maureen returned, he shot a scowl in Don's direction and moved behind the clothes washing unit. He began to push while Maureen took the front. "I do this for you, my dear lady, and not for that overbearing, foul-tongued grease monkey. Onward and upward!"

"Thank you, Dr. Smith," Maureen said, taking the front handles of the unit to begin the arduous pull up the ramp. Before they began to move, a thunderous snap and a clattering of gear was quickly followed by a fusillade of highly colorful exclamations that reverberated off the rocks and around the campsite. "Don!" she loudly and in some exasperation admonished the pilot. "The children!"

"Sorry," he called, grimly surveying the Chariot's main transmission that lay on the sandy ground after the hoist he had been using to lift it crumpled under the weight.

"Hah!" Dr. Smith chortled vindictively. "Serves you right! Pay attention to what you're doing!"

Don shot him such a venomous look that Smith, with a squawk, quickly leaned into the washer and pushed with such alacrity that a surprised Maureen was practically catapulted along with it up the ramp and into the ship.

After lunch and with the Chariot packed away, John and Don were able to concentrate on the complicated process of getting the Jupiter ready for flight. Their first task was to ensure they did indeed have enough fuel for their short planned flight. After checking fuel levels and running basic rate-time-distance calculations, they confirmed that their remaining deutronium would allow a one-time sub-orbital flight over the planet. After that, they became totally absorbed in preparations for launch, hunched over the control consoles below the main window of the ship. They were so intent on what they were doing, it took several moments for the discordant noise to penetrate Don's consciousness.

He looked up. "What the hell is …?"

It was a muffled, sizzling sound. He turned to see sparks erupting from under the navigation console. Will, who had been on his back underneath the console, was already scrambling in panic away from the bright flashes of intense white light that were coming from the insides of the console over his head. Ozone and acrid smoke instantly filled the air.

"Warning! Warning!" the Robot called from nearby. He thrust out his arms and began waving them erratically. "Electrical spike detected in main power busses! Danger! Fire in navigation console!"

At the same time, a klaxon began baying over the ship's intercom system.

"Will!" John pivoted, crying out, "get out of there!" He lunged bodily for his son, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him clear, dragging him along the floor.

At the same time, Don had leaped for a fire bottle on a nearby bulkhead and let loose with a concentrated blast of halon, filling the area with thick, roiling vapor. Judy backed away in alarm from the sputtering instrument panel, shielding her face from sparks that were still leaping upward. She fetched up against the bulkhead, right next to the main electrical control panel. Even as she realized where she was, she spun around and slammed the palm of her hand against the primary electrical bus cutoff switch. Instantly, the Jupiter was plunged into semi-darkness as the power was completely cut off. The klaxon shut off and silence descended, punctuated only by the sizzle and pop of fried circuits, and the loud hissing from Don's fire bottle. By the time he had exhausted the extinguisher on the console, only smoke was rising from the blackened console. The odor of fried plastic insulation filled the ship.

"Good job, Judy!" John called, staring at the ruined console. He was still lying on the floor, clutching Will protectively. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know!" Will said, wiping his watering eyes. "I was soldering some circuit boards, something sparked, and it just kind of blew up!"

"Are you all right?" John asked, looking down at his son, who was leaning against his father.

Maureen, Penny and Smith came swarming up the ladder. "John!" Maureen cried. "We heard the fire alarm! What happened?"

"Ugh! What's that smell?" Penny wrinkled her nose.

Don was tentatively moving switches on the console, then bent over to look inside the navigation console access panel where Will had been working. "I can't see a damn thing. Judy, hand me that emergency flashlight…"

Judy grabbed the light from the wall bracket and handed it to Don, who then inspected the charred interior of the console. "Looks like our navigation system got fried."

"It wasn't my fault!!" Will looked up, appalled, at his father.

John straightened and moved over next to the pilot to look inside. Will scrambled to his feet and peered around them into the blackened interior.

"No, it wasn't your fault," West agreed decisively, stepping aside for John to have a look. "John, look at those corroded lines that tie the console into the electrical system. We've had this thing in storage so long, it looks like the insulation has dried out and cracked. Those hot and neutral wires from the main electrical bus touched one another right there…it caused a basic short. Damn!" he banged a fist on the console, startling Will. "I should have checked that before we hooked power up to the damn thing." He looked remorsefully down at Will. "I'm sorry, Will, this one is my fault. You could not have known about this."

Smith looked panic-stricken, staring at the still smoking pile of circuitry. "You idiot!" he raved at Don. "Your incompetence will be the death of all us! Now, how can we navigate in space? How can we find Earth?"

John and Don looked at each other. "Well," John admitted hesitantly. "We certainly can't do it anymore with this pile of junk."

"So?!" Smith exclaimed, looking from one to the other. "What are we going to do now?"

"How about this, Smith?" West growled. "Maybe we can just go to the second star on the right and straight on until morning! How will that do for you?"

Smith looked around at his fellow castaways, seeking solace. Finally, his gaze fell on Will, and a hopeful light came into his eyes.

"Will!" Smith leaned towards the boy. "You can fix it, can't you? You clever young man, you can fix this navigation thing, can't you?"

Will looked at his feet. "I don't think so."

"Then what are we going to do? What are we going to do?" Smith cried, straightening abruptly. "Someone think of something!"

Penny was looking at the Robot. "Can't we program the Robot to navigate for us?"

"The Robot as navigator?" Don mused. "I suppose that's a thought."

Penny continued, greatly encouraged by Don's acceptance of her idea. "Yeah! The Robot has a lot of capability Will always says isn't being used. And, he's a computer, after all. So, why can't he stand in for the navigation system?"

"Brilliant!" Smith nearly leaped for joy. "Of course, my sophisticated friend can do it! Can't you?"

The Robot's sensors swung towards Smith. "Are you asking a question of me?"

Smith stomped his foot impatiently and rapped his fist on the Robot's shell, causing the machine to wobble slightly. "Yes, you prattling primitive! Answer! Can you navigate this ship to Earth or not?"

The Robot clicked to itself for a moment. "Affirmative. With proper programming, environmental routines can be modified to accept navigational data. With added memory modules, computations should be well within my capability. However, a direct connection to Jupiter 2 guidance systems would be required."

"You mean you'll need to be hard-wired in to the Jupiter?" Will asked.

"Affirmative. Data flow will be improved and required adjustments to trajectory made in real time. Wireless connectivity would be inadequate."

John was nodding in agreement. "That makes sense. Will? Smith? I want you two to start working on interfacing the Robot into the Jupiter. Don? Let's get this console disconnected and throw it overboard; it's just so much melted metal now, anyway. And let's get ship's power back on." Everyone watched him expectantly. Professor Robinson stared back at them, then, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, raised his voice. "Come on, people! The game's still afoot! Go!" The Robinsons jumped and scattered.

* * * *

"Sixty seconds."

"Fuel pumps to maximum. Full pressure indicated."

"Stabilizers?"

"Engaged. Reactor core temperature in the green."

"Push 'em up."

John and Don were sitting side by side in their seats bolted to the floor at the control station. Normally, the family would have been strapped in to their reclining acceleration couches on the lower deck of the Jupiter; however, no one wanted to miss this extraordinary occasion. Instead, the couches had been brought up to the main deck and fastened to the floor with bolts drilled into the deck. Maureen, Judy, Penny, Will, and Dr. Smith were arrayed in their couches in a rough semi-circle in the middle of the flight deck, facing the main viewport.

The Robot was also present, eschewing his docking station on the lower deck so he could be with the family during the launch. He claimed he did not want to be alone, in spite of Dr. Smith's cynical assertions that the machine could not possibly have any such emotions. As usual, the family sided with their mechanical friend, and Will was the one who suggested some equipment anchors on the back bulkhead the Robot could use to anchor himself against any unexpected turbulence on takeoff. There he stood, his accordion-like arms outstretched, his claws clamped firmly around the sturdy rings set in a solid weight-bearing support beam.

For now, the action was occurring at the helm station. Don, at John's command, was pushing up levers that controlled the massive thrust of the Jupiter's main engine. "Here we go," he muttered, his eyes alertly scanning the engine instruments.

"Fifty seconds," John proclaimed over the increasing engine noise, watching the countdown clock.

"Engine pressure ratios in the green, exhaust gas temperature high, but okay."

Judy stared out the viewport at what had been their world for so long. "I can't believe we're actually leaving!" she remarked to her mother.

Maureen reached over and took her hand. "It's been a long time."

"Do you think this is really going to work?" Penny asked as vibrations deepened.

"It's got to, dear," Maureen assured her other daughter.

"I'm going to miss it, in a way," Will said, grinning from ear to ear as the ship shook to the power of the engine.

"What are you going to miss?" Penny asked, looking over at him.

"Our campsite. It was kind of home."

Penny rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."

Maureen held a finger to her lips, angling her head towards the men at the console. "Pipe down, you two. Let the guys concentrate."

Will was about to comment that they could not possibly hear them over the engine thunder, but he wisely decided not to contradict his mother.

"Kicking up some dust," John noted as dirt began flying outside the port.

"Bleed system is showing an overpressure," Don began as a yellow light began to flash. "It's in the caution area. Anything you can do about it?"

"I see it," John's hand flew over a panel, flicking several switches in sequence. "Stay with it, I'm opening up the filter ports to maximum. Twenty five seconds."

"Still high," Don said, watching the gage above the flashing warning light.

A discordant rumbling began rattling console covers.

"What the hell is that? Ninety percent power," Don was looking everywhere at once on his console, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

John's jaw was set. "Vibration meter shows one point three. I'm thinking it's probably compacted dirt coming off the pod. Should clear itself. Fifteen seconds!'

"Mom?" Penny looked wildly over at her mother as the vibrations increased.

Maureen was clutching the arms of her chair with a white-knuckled grip, her eyes wide as she watched her husband, trying to read his body language as he hunched over the panels. Smith was completely rigid in his acceleration couch; his eyes were tightly closed while his teeth were set against the drumming in the ship. Will was leaning forward, thrilling in the raw power he was feeling coming through the ship and not wanting to miss anything. Judy settled her body further into the gravity-dampening cushions of the couch, anticipating a rough launch. Suddenly, the vibrations settled to a more comfortable thrumming.

"That's better," Don noted. "Must have thrown the dirt out…"

"Ten seconds!" John interrupted. "Vibrations down to point two."

"One hundred percent!" West announced above the din. "That's it! We're at full thrust!"

"Five seconds! Four, three, two, one, zero!"

All eyes snapped up to watch the main viewport.

Don's left hand was holding the thrust levers against the stop, pushing so hard veins were standing out on his arm. His right hand eased back on the control stick. After a quick glance out the viewport, he resumed scanning his instruments, including the altitude meter, whose digital readout still displayed "zero."

For a moment—a gut-wrenching, doubtful, seemingly interminable moment—nothing happened. The ship thundered and shook, groaning as if it were mired in mud or held in the implacable grip of the alien world. Something below deck--an access panel or a piece of equipment improperly secured--fell to the floor with a loud crash, evoking a strangled scream from Dr. Smith.

Don could feel sweat springing from his forehead and trickling down his temple. If willpower alone could lift the Jupiter, it would happen with the force of his concentration flowing through his hands into the control stick. His jaw began to ache with the intensity with which he was clenching his teeth, but he hardly noticed it.

"Come on," he hissed to himself. "Come on, girl, break free…"

Seconds passed with no change. One of the gages, prominently marked "core temperature," was angling into the red danger zone. A warning light over the gage began flashing.

Despair surged in Major West, and he was split-seconds from yanking the power levers back to the cutoff position and scuttling the launch. "I'm gonna abort…!"

"NO!" John yelled, his hand closing over Don's on the thrust levers. "Not yet…!"

At that instant, the altitude indicator clicked over from the zero indication to "one".

John released Don's hand and hit him hard on the shoulder, pointing wildly at the altimeter. As if the appearance of that number gave Don an electric shock, he jolted upright and glanced out the viewport with the rest of the family. The sight of familiar rock formations could just be seen through the furiously blowing dust storm being kicked up by the ship. Slowly, the outcroppings and distant view of mountains began settling below the sill of the viewport as if the world was sinking underneath them.

The altitude gage began clicking over at a steadily increasing rate.

There was a loud chorus of whoops and wild applause from the Robinsons as the Jupiter 2, for the first time in three years, rose majestically into the air. The family's pent-up emotions were released as they gave vent to wild shouts, cheering the vessel upward like it was a living thing. Will yelled the loudest, startling Smith into opening his eyes in panic, certain their doom was upon them at last.

"My God," Smith goggled, clawing the armrests of his chair, "we're _flying_!"

"The Jupiter has cleared the launch pad!" Don yelled triumphantly over the engine noise, chills running up and down his spine. The knuckles of both hands were showing white where he gripped the controls, but his face was twisted into a maniacal grin. "The clock is _running_! All systems are _go_!"

The Jupiter ponderously rose from the cloud of debris and blowing dust it was making as it steadily climbed into the sky, wobbling only a little bit before settling into a vertical trajectory. Fifty feet, one hundred feet, it climbed straight up towards the cloudy overcast. The flashing, intensely bright lights of the main drive section under the ship rotated madly, and clumps of encrusted sand and rock ejected out horizontally from the ascending vessel. The man-made thunder echoed for miles, back and forth in confusion among the rock outcroppings that had once ringed the ship. Sharp shadows were cast as the brilliant white light blasted the surfaces of the cliffs like burning magnesium.

They were committed now, they were in the air. Anything could happen. Maureen had closed her eyes, and her lips moved unconsciously in prayer. "Lord, guard and guide the men who fly, through the great spaces in the sky…"

Inside the ship, a siren wailed. Don hit a switch with his fist to silence it. "We're overheating!" he yelled. "Core temperature in the red and climbing!"

"Danger!" the Robot called, still latched tightly to the bulkhead anchors. "Sensors detect engine power above temperature limits!"  
"I see it," John called, reaching for a control lever. "We've lost automatic exhaust control. I'm opening the vents manually."

"That's it!" Don watched the gage stop flashing red, and the needle dropped back into the yellow caution zone. "It's coming down. Keep it at that. Climbing to 6,000 feet. I'm retracting the landing struts, throttle-back in ten seconds. Five seconds. Gear is up and locked. Setting climb power, now!"

Don brought the thrust levers back, then eased the stick forward. The roar of the engines dropped to tolerable levels, and the pounding vibrations subsided into a comfortable rumbling.

John watched as Don took the ship upwards. "Due south, Don."

"Due south, turning. She's coming around. Beautiful!" the pride in Don's voice was unmistakable. He grinned over at John. "God, I love this ship!"

John sat back in the control chair, only then realizing how tense his neck and back had been. He smiled back at his friend. "I think she might be showing off just for you."

With a paroxysm of energy and flailing limbs, Will could not contain himself any longer. He unbuckled his seatbelt, tossed the webbing aside, and leaped from his couch.

Alarmed, Maureen shouted, "Will! Get back here!"

Beside himself with excitement, he dashed up to the viewport next to Don. "Too cool!" he cried, looking out the broad window at the world spread out underneath them.

"Will!" Maureen called again, but John held up a hand.

"It's all right. I think you can all get up now."

"Aww!" Will exclaimed in disappointment as the ship punched up into the overcast, and the panoramic view they had of the planet's surface vanished as the roiling clouds closed around them.

Immediately, the ship was buffeted in turbulence and shearing winds. Will staggered against Don who grabbed him before he could fall. "Will, maybe you'd better stay seated."

"Yeah," Will agreed and lurched back towards the family as the ship rolled and heaved.

"Good idea," John called over his shoulder. "Everyone forget what I just said: stay strapped in for now. I'm increasing gravity compensators to ten percent to dampen the turbulence. Don," he said, looking around, "what _is_ that noise?"

A whooshing sound had been steadily increasing in loudness until it caught Professor Robinson's attention. Don cocked his head, cross-checking engine and flight parameters. "No idea. It's not the engine. Might be the pressurization controllers…"

As his eyes settled on the atmospheric airspeed indicator, he stopped, made the connection, and laughed. "It _has_ been a while since we've been airborne. That's air rush across the viewport. We're doing nearly 400 knots already and increasing. Some of the seals around the viewport must be leaking."

The ship bucked to a furious updraft. Smith wailed, "I am going to be sick. My delicate stomach can't take much more of this!" His face actually turned a slight shade of green, but everyone, out of habit, pretty much ignored him.

Will had staggered back to his acceleration couch and was already buckled back in.

John pointed at one of the readouts as he was tossed about in his seat. "Let's see if we can climb above this."

"Okay," Don answered, pulling back on the stick. "Let's just see how high these clouds go…ah!"

This last exclamation was drawn from him as the Jupiter suddenly shot above the mostly flat cloud deck into clear air. The ride smoothed out immediately as the ship rocketed above the clouds, and the undercast fell away beneath them like they were on an elevator. The warmth of the sun coming through the viewport was a welcome feeling after the gray overcast of so many days past, and the intense blue sky lit the interior of the ship in a cheery brightness. Thin, wispy clouds painted white contrails in the sky far overhead, but they were entirely in the clear at their altitude.

"Ah, much better, well _done_, Major!" Smith said with feeling. The green tint of his face had passed, and he was quickly recovering his usual superior aplomb. "Smooth sailing from here, eh? Splendid flying weather!"

Don squinted at the clear sky, then flipped a toggle switch activating the autopilot. "I think so. John, autopilot's engaged, engine is at cruise setting. Heading is one-seven-nine. We have enough fuel to fly for about an hour and a half."

"Punch in those coordinates we got from the Robot," John said, pointing at the inertial guidance module. "We'll go direct to that location and hope the deutronium ore is there."

While Don punched some buttons, John swiveled in his chair to face his family. "Okay, I think it's safe for you all to get up now. We have about an hour before we get to the spot where I'm hoping we'll find some deutronium."

The family lost no time unbuckling themselves and crowding up behind the two men at the pilot console.

Judy lifted her face up to let the sun bathe it in its rays. "Oh, that feels so good!" she breathed. She placed a hand on Don's shoulder as she watched the clouds roll past underneath the still climbing Jupiter.

"It _is_ warm," Penny agreed, leaning on the viewport sill to get a better look outside.

"How is it looking, John?" Maureen asked, leaning over her husband and scanning the instruments.

"The ship is performing pretty well, considering how long we've been marooned on this world." John leaned back in his seat. "When we land, there'll be a few things we're going to have to fix before we even think about space flight, but we're fine for now."

Smith was smiling broadly now, standing next to Will. "I have every confidence in your abilities, Professor. Why, we're as good as home already!"

Robinson tossed his head noncommittally. "Well, we're getting there, anyway. Don, let's run some tests and use our airborne time wisely. Life support, artificial gravity, propulsion, radiation shielding. It's been a couple of years; let's see how space-worthy she really is!"

"Sounds good. I'm on it."

Dr. Smith placed both his hands on Will's shoulders as they looked outside. "Well, William, pretty exciting to be back in the air again, eh?"

"Yeah!" Will answered. "Look at those cloud patterns below us…and look at those thin, wispy clouds overhead! They're a lot like cloud formations on Earth: cirrus above, stratus below."

"Observant lad!" Smith patted the young boy's head, happily squinting his eyes in the sunshine. "And soon we'll be seeing the real things, on Earth!"

An hour seemed to pass very quickly as Don worked diagnostics on nearly all ship's systems. John was directing his family back to their couches to prepare for landing when they re-entered the clouds and the low altitude turbulence.

"Everyone strap in, this could be rough," Don said, wrestling with the controls. "Passing ten thousand feet, I'm lowering the landing struts."

"Down, locked, three green," John said, noting the display lights for the landing struts.

"Reducing forward velocity to landing hover," Don called. "Five thousand feet, I've got a radar lock on the ground. Level in all directions; there's nothing but flat desert down there."

The gray light ebbed and flowed as the ship descended through varying thicknesses of cloud layers. "Power's coming back. Two thousand feet now, descending at five hundred feet per minute."

The Jupiter lurched and skidded in the turbulence. Strapped tightly again into his acceleration couch, Dr. Smith was turning green again.

"Rough out there," Don commented. "Fifteen hundred feet, four hundred feet per minute descent rate."

"Still can't see anything outside," John noted, staring at the swirling clouds outside the viewport. "Everything okay for a zero/zero landing if we have to?"

Don nodded, scanning the instrument panel and moving the control stick with small, precise movements to counter the rough air. "Yeah. Terrain is flat and rolling, autopilot is dampening the gusts. Should be okay all the way to touchdown. One thousand feet, slowing to three hundred feet per minute descent."

Don was working the thrust lever, modulating the engine thrust to control his descent rate as the ship settled towards the still unseen surface of the planet.

"Five hundred feet," Don called, watching the readouts. "Two hundred feet per minute descent. Doing fine. Four hundred feet. Three hundred."

"No visual!" John confirmed.

"Two hundred, decision height. We're committed to auto-landing. One hundred. Fifty feet, stand by for touch. Ten feet! Stabilizers engaged. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

Without even a bump, the altitude readout slowed and stopped at zero.

"Touchdown!" John confirmed, slapping Major West in the back. "Nicely done!"

Don smoothly pulled the thrust levers to idle; the engine whine diminished to a barely discernible hum. "Shutting down the main drive, running securing checklist." Flipping switches, he grinned as the Robinsons erupted once again into applause.

"Attaboy, Don!"

"Better than that last one two years ago!"

"I didn't even feel us touch down. Wow!"

"Boy, wait'll we land like that on Earth!"

Safety harnesses were unbuckled and everyone came surging up to the viewport. However, this time, nothing could be seen outside at all. There was only swirling dust close up on the window, giving them the impression they were buried underground, or submerged in a very dirty ocean.

"Robot," John called, and the Robot trundled over. "Environmental analysis. What's going on outside?"

"Sensors indicate a localized depression is causing high winds and blowing dust. Temperature thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit. Winds variable at forty to sixty knots. Barometric pressure…"

"All right, all right, I got it," John interrupted. "Any idea how long it will last?"

"Computer model suggests six to twelve hours before this low pressure moves east and the wind abates. It's not moving very fast, so it could be longer depending on the high altitude winds."

"We'll have to wait until tomorrow, then, to start searching," Don looked over at John.

"Yes," he agreed. "First thing in the morning, we'll re-assemble the Chariot and get to it. Oh, and Dr. Smith? If you wouldn't mind helping, and Will, you, too, it will go a lot faster."

Smith, who was standing behind the family encircling the viewport, straightened abruptly. "Never fear, Smith is here," he said, much to John's obvious surprise. The Professor was expecting excuses rather than eager agreement. Smith continued, still out of character. "I am a veritable treasure trove of mechanical knowledge, you know. I am at your service."

Don, speechless, stared at the Doctor like he was one of the strange forms of alien life they had met in their years on the planet.

"Well, thank you, Doctor," John said, unable to think of anything more appropriate.

"Me, too!" Will exclaimed eagerly, clearly anxious to tackle the task of assembling their workhorse vehicle. "I'm at your service!" He grinned up at Dr. Smith.

"And, until then," Smith added slyly, "since there's nothing else we can do, perhaps a little dinner might be in order before a good night's sleep?" He looked meaningfully at Maureen. "My dear…?"

She laughed and turned towards the lift. "Yes, Dr. Smith. I'm at _your_ service."

* * * *

They had been driving for nearly two hours. The Chariot bounced and heaved over unstable dunes of the finest sand. The weather had lifted as the Robot predicted, but the ever-present clouds cast a gray pall over the brown desert, leaving it in a strange kind of twilight, even at midday. Don was working constantly at the twin track control levers, trying to keep the Chariot on the heading directed by the Robot.

"Deviation of two degrees right," the Robot instructed from his seat at the back of the Chariot. "We must turn port to heading of 187 true in order to correct."

Don ground his teeth, muttering under his breath, "Damn backseat driver! Should've left him on the ship." However, he yanked the Chariot violently to the Robot's heading.

"Good correction," the Robot said helpfully.

John grinned, bracing himself as the Chariot slid down still another loosely packed sand dune. "You're doing great, Don," he said encouragingly. "The deposit can't be more than another couple of miles further south. Will, how are you doing up there?"

Will was standing on the raised platform behind the two men that elevated him into the bubble top of the Chariot. He was holding a cylindrical probe that was wired directly into the Chariot's sensor computer, and thence into the Robot through a quick-disconnect fitting. He was watching a small indicator needle on the probe housing, occasionally shifting the direction of the probe to keep it centered.

"I'm good," he said, bracing himself as best he could against the sides of the housing. "The signal is getting stronger."

"It can't be much further," John called, bouncing against his restraint harness as the Chariot vaulted wildly over an irregularity in the sand. "Tell you what, I'll take over holding the lead up there…you come down here and help Don navigate."

Don pulled the twin track controls aft, slowing the Chariot to allow John to unstrap and climb up next to Will. John took the metal tube of the sensor lead from Will, who then squeezed down into the seat next to Don.

"Wow, that feels better, to sit," Will noted, strapping himself into the seat belt and shoulder harness.

Don chuckled and pushed the power back up. "Don't complain. It was your idea to elevate the sensor lead to give us more range. We'll have to suggest that to the engineers as a permanent modification to any future Chariot designs when we get back to Earth. The range is too damn limited when it's down here next to us."

"Starboard deviation," the Robot called out again. "Come left four degrees."

Don rolled his eyes at Will. "Coming left four." Then he lowered his voice with a mischievous look at Will. "You nattering nincompoop."

Will giggled at the inside joke: it was Dr. Smith's own signature style of insult.

"I heard that," the Robot remarked peevishly.

Don grinned and winked at Will, and then he concentrated again on the way ahead.

"Are we anywhere near the great ocean?" Will asked, squinting through the windscreen.

"Within two or three hundred miles, I think, but it should be a lot further west," Don answered, swerving around some scattered boulders that had reared up in their path.

"Don," Will asked after a pause, "why is this taking so long? I thought we landed really close to the deposit."

Don laughed. "Is that your version of 'are we there yet'?"

"No…"

"You know our computations were right on the money for a landing site, but the ore just wasn't there. It's close, though. Maybe we miscalculated the distance somehow, or some of the readings weren't correct. Who knows?"

"I know we don't have the fuel to move the ship again, although I guess that would have been easier." Another pause. "Is the deutronium really out here?" Will asked nonchalantly, masking an inner concern.

Don smiled encouragingly at Will, laying a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "Don't worry. It's here. We just have to go a little further to find it. Look at these readings!" He waved a hand at a gage on the console. The needle was pegged at the far right. "Nothing else would give a signal like that! What say you, Robot?"

"Affirmative. Deutronium ore is the most likely candidate for readings of this nature."

"See?" Don said optimistically. "The Robot agrees with me."

They drove in silence for another half an hour. Will suddenly sat up and pointed "Don, look at that!"

Out of the murk ahead, large, hulking shapes could be seen, still hazy with distance. Don called over his shoulder, "John, do you see that?"

"Yes, I do," John answered from within the bubble-top. "Looks like a mountain range. Will, hand me the binoculars."

Will pulled the binoculars out of their case and handed them up to his father.

"The terrain definitely gets rougher ahead," John observed, staring through the glasses, "and it does appear to be a range of hills or tall cliffs climbing directly out of the desert and right across our path."

"Robot," Don called, "what's the distance to those hills?"

"Four kilometers. I detect increasing terrain elevation. It does appear to be the beginnings of a series of hills or perhaps a mountain range."

John leaned down out of the bubble. "Mountains, huh? Don, flip the sensors over to local setting, minimum range, and tie in the direction finder."

"Go ahead, Will," Don said, still wrestling with the controls. "I need to concentrate on keeping this tank on both its tracks!"

Will unstrapped his shoulder harness and twisted in his seat to fiddle with some switches and dials on the sensor control panel. A beeping began sounding in the Chariot, and the needle on the detection counter pulsed in time with the tones.

"Yes!" Don cried. "There it is!"

John leaned down out of the bubble again, grinning hugely. "Is that a wonderful song, or what? Robot, tie in to the detector and give us a precise heading to that deutronium deposit!"

"Affirmative. Tied in…computing. Heading 165 true. Distance: two kilometers. At present speed, five minutes to reach minimum range."

"Makes sense," Don said, manipulating the controls towards the directed heading, then peering ahead. "Looks like we're heading for that break between those cliffs. John? What do you think?"

Consumed with keen scientific interest, the Professor stared ahead at the breathtaking landscape rising out of the dust of the desert directly in their path. The Chariot was quickly approaching what appeared to be a rampart of high stone cliffs that rose hundreds of feet into the air. There were no intervening hills or plateaus, or anything else that would have announced a geologic change; the crags rose sheerly from the desert like they had been set there by some alien hand. Their tops were jagged and irregular, and several of the higher peaks actually disappeared to lose themselves in the forbidding clouds of the overcast. The entire wall gave the impression of a massive bulwark girdling the entire planet as it curved off to the right and left to finally lose itself in the hazes of the distance. The barrier itself was pierced randomly by cuts, as if a titanic knife had been wielded upon it by a berserk colossus. Many of these slashes reached all the way down to the desert, and it was towards one of these chasms that the Chariot was now racing.

"Yes," Robinson called, "I think you're right. Stay on it."

They covered the remaining distance at full speed, bouncing and swaying. At the entrance to the defile, Don pulled the track handles back to quarter speed to slow their headlong pace and began nosing the Chariot carefully into the shadowy interior. The ground was still sandy and mostly flat, but they found themselves dwarfed by the crags closing around them and rising to unspeakable heights. Even at low power, the roar of the engine echoed confusedly among the rocks as they penetrated further into the gorge. Don flicked on the Chariot's saucer-sized headlights, and their powerful beams helped him to pick his way around a debris field of rocks, boulders, and other irregular outcroppings. Finally, he brought the vehicle to a stop and shut off the engine. The direction finder on the Chariot's center console was now a steady tone.

"It's right here!" Don said enthusiastically, punching off the tone. "Robot, can you confirm?"

The Robot's bubble top swung right and left. "My sensors concur. All indications point to a large deposit of deutronium in the ground directly under us."

"All right, then!" John exclaimed, turning towards the Chariot's side door. "Let's go out and have a look!"

He opened the latch to the side door and swung it open. He stepped onto the right-hand caterpillar track of the Chariot, jumped to the ground, straightened, and looked about.

They were deep into the defile. Clouds could be seen high overhead, framed by the cliff-tops. The gray walls formed a corridor approximately forty to fifty feet wide that marched quite a distance before a turn prevented any further observation up the gorge. It was cold in a stark way, as if the Chariot was parked in a cave rather than a valley. The slightest noise echoed between the walls in a bewildering manner, and a moaning wind could be heard far overhead among the cliff tops. As he stood there, surveying their grim surroundings, John slowly became aware of another sound besides the distant wind. He cocked his head, intently.

Whatever it was, it came from ahead, deep in whatever gorges lay out of sight. Faint, ululating, animal-like howls, like the sound of a pack of wolves or dogs, could be heard, rising and falling. It was a very weak sound, far-off but noticeable, and it nonetheless caused the hairs on the back of the Professor's neck to stand up. The weird sound slowly descended into silence and was gone, leaving only the high altitude wind moaning among the crevasses.

Will, who had been following his father closely, was frozen in the door opening, peering ahead.

"Dad, what was that?" he asked uneasily.

Don, who had been busy shutting down the Chariot's systems and heard nothing, was bustling impatiently up behind Will, who was still blocking the door. "Hey! What are you guys doing? What's up?"

John, standing just outside the Chariot, scanned the gorge warily. "Robot!" he called to the machine, who was still inside the vehicle. "Are you detecting any life forms?"

"Nothing in range," the Robot confirmed after a pause. "No life forms in range."

Don was peering outside past Will. "Life forms? What are you talking about? What life forms?"

John helped Will down from the caterpillar track. "Nothing, I guess. Just thought I heard something. Some trick of the wind. Forget it. Let's get the Robot out, then unpack our mining gear. Will, please go inside and call the Jupiter. Tell them we've stopped and are on foot looking for the deposit."

"Okay," Will answered, still looking doubtful and climbing back inside the Chariot while Don leaped out to stand next to John.

"Will looks spooked," Don commented, glancing curiously around at the narrow valley they had parked in. "What's up?" he repeated.

John was still scanning the high tops of the outcroppings. "Just a weird howling. I'm sure it was the wind overhead. It probably makes some really strange sounds as it comes blowing through this valley, or any of the other canyons adjacent. Come on, help me with the Robot."

Shrugging unconcernedly, Don answered, "Okay." The two men climbed back into the Chariot.

* * * *

"That's wonderful news, Will!" Maureen spoke into the hand microphone at the Jupiter's radio station.

They had to listen carefully, since Will's voice came over the speakers along with heavy static background noise. "Dad thinks we're parked right on top of the deposit! The Robot gave them the best location to drill, and Don already has the laser borer up on the tripod. It's starting to get dark, so he says we'll wait until morning to get started, that way we'll have the whole day to run the laser continuously."

Judy and Penny were standing behind Maureen, listening intently. Dr. Smith was seated nearby, in all appearance deep into one of Penny's books, but he was also paying close attention to the conversation.

"Good," Maureen continued. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, Mom, not yet. I think we're going to eat in a little while, then go to bed."

"Well, get a good, hot meal, and a good night's rest."

"Yes, Mom."

"And tell your father everything here is fine. Dr. Smith is taking very good care of us," she smiled as she saw one of Smith's eyebrows arch towards his hairline, his eyes never leaving the book in front of him.

"Okay, Mom."

"Call if you need anything. I'll leave the radio on all night and the frequency open."

"Okay, Mom. Good night!"

"Good night, Will."

Maureen hung up the microphone with a sigh. "Well, sounds like they're doing fine out there."

Judy relaxed slightly, uncrossing her arms. "Hope they'll be warm enough."

Maureen glanced over at their weather readouts. "It's well above freezing, and I'm sure John will run the Chariot heaters so they'll be comfortable. I would say it's time for us to put on dinner!"  
Smith closed his book with a loud thump. "An excellent suggestion!" he exclaimed. "We must keep up our strength for the coming journey back to Earth! How long until we eat, may I ask?"

Maureen straightened up from the radio console after tuning some of the static down to a dull roar. "An hour, I should think. I wonder if you would mind helping us in the galley?"

"Delighted, madam!" Smith said cheerfully, placing the book on the deck and getting up out of the chair. His broad smile was suddenly turned into a painful grimace, and he moaned theatrically as he arched his body, placing a hand on the small of his back.

"Why, Dr. Smith!" Judy observed dryly. "Whatever is wrong?"

"It's my back," he groaned again, louder, through clenched teeth. "That chair is not suitable for anyone who has anything less than an iron constitution. Perhaps a short nap before dinner will put things to right? Ladies, I am of no use to you at the moment, and it pains me to have to make such an admission. Will you excuse me? I'm sure I will be much better…by dinnertime."

"Of course, Dr. Smith," Maureen addressed his retreating back. "We'll call you when dinner is ready."

Penny hid a grin behind her hand, and Judy nudged her in the side as Smith made a beeline for the lift, then descended out of sight into the lower deck of the Jupiter. "All right, girls," Maureen laughed, noticing her daughters' mirth, "it's up to us! Let's make it a fine dinner for everyone. I'm in the mood for a huge salad."

"Me, too!" the girls exclaimed together, giggling.

"All right, then, everyone downstairs," Maureen said. "I'm going to secure the hatch first."

Penny and Judy ran to the ladder and climbed down to the lower deck to prepare dinner.

Maureen went to the half open hatch and poked her head outside. They had opened the door partway to allow fresh air into the ship, even though the air was tinged slightly with the smell of volcanic ash and sulfur. From her vantage point, and due to the ship standing tall on its three landing struts, she was nearly thirty feet in the air and had a commanding view into the distance. She looked about, letting the breeze toss her blonde hair about her face.

Her gaze drifted towards the horizon, and she frowned uncertainly. Even as darkness had begun settling over the desert, spreading a murky gloom under the cloud cover, she could still make out the faraway horizon. However, the indistinct horizon line seemed to be rippling and in motion, as if with wave action. Maureen squinted into the distance, trying to figure out if some trick of lighting was causing the phenomenon, but the obscure daylight was rapidly diminishing, and she could not be certain of what she saw. Meanwhile, overhead, faint lightning flashes illuminated the bottom of the lowering cloud deck as the daylight faded into twilight gloom, and distant thunder rolled uneasily with a barely audible muttering. The nighttime chill was already settling about the ship, and dense air currents ghosted past the vessel.

Overall, it was a very alien evening, and Maureen shivered involuntarily. She cast one more lingering look at the desert floor, where the sand tracks from the Chariot disappeared like an arrow into the distance, and thought of her three men far away. Folding her arms tightly against her chest, a concerned look on her face, she retreated back into the airlock and pressed the button that caused the door to slide shut and seal the ship against the coming night. Before heading downstairs after the girls, she also went to the main viewport and flipped the switch that closed the big titanium shields over the window. Satisfied that her family was secure against the night, she strode across the deck to the ladder and descended to the lower deck to prepare dinner. She threw one more look about the upper deck as she eased herself down the ladder to ensure all was well, then vanished down the access opening.

28


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Well, my Readers, it is going faster and smoother than I anticipated! It looks like I'll be able to keep submitting chapters in advance of my initial 7-day-per-chapter goal. I'll keep at it...in the meantime, here is chapter 3. Enjoy!

Chapter Three: Double Crisis

"How's that again, darling?" John spoke loudly into the microphone over the noise of the laser boring machine.

They had been drilling since daybreak, as they had been for the past week since their arrival. Smoke, waves of shimmering heat, and intensely white light were pouring out of the hole in the ground below the borer, and the whine of the laser caused conversation to be difficult. Outside, and in spite of the early morning chill, Don was hunched over the laser controls dressed in only a T-shirt and slacks; his jacket lay draped over a nearby rock. Will and the Robot watched from nearby. Will had noticed the transmission light flashing on the Chariot's interior console, received the initial call from this mother, then called his father over to take the call.

"It's very loud here, hold on a second."

He leaned away from the radio, reached around outside and pulled the Chariot's door shut with a bang. Instantly, the ear-splitting whine from the boring machine became muted through the tough transparent panels of the Chariot.

"That's better," he transmitted, lowering his voice in the relative quiet of the vehicle's interior. "Now what's this about some strange weather phenomenon?"

Maureen's voice came through, garbled with static, but the concern was clear in her tone. "It's so strange, and I don't mean to worry you, but we all agreed we should call and let you know."

"Okay, go ahead, you have my attention. What's happening there?"

"Well, we woke up this morning, and the whole western horizon was in mist or fog of some sort. It's very strange, like the horizon in that direction is closer somehow. It's very hard to describe, but it's very unsettling, like there's something happening out there we can't see. It actually started about a week ago, got thicker and thicker, and hasn't moved at all. It's just gotten more widespread out there."

"Is there anything showing on the ship's weather readouts?"

"No, nothing at all. If it's some weather phenomenon, you would think something would show, like a change in barometric pressure, pressure gradients, temperature, something." Her voice trailed off.

John pondered for a few moments, watching the drill doing its work, knowing his wife would not be calling him if she was not extremely uneasy. A weather system was not likely to make her worry very much, and she would not be calling him if that was the case.

Static crackled loudly over the line. "John?"

"I'm still here," he answered. "I'll see if the Robot can direct some kind of long range scan with his sensor system boosted through the Chariot's sensor array. We'll see if he can see anything in your direction, but it's pretty far from where we are. I'll call when I can, perhaps in another couple of hours. Keep the channel open; let's plan the next radio check at noon."

"Okay. Thanks, John. Jupiter, out."

Professor Robinson replaced the microphone in its holder and climbed out of the Chariot. He motioned Will over, indicating he should bring the Robot as well.

They all moved behind the Chariot where they were slightly insulated from the mining noise.

"What did Mom want, Dad?" Will asked, munching a cracker from their rations.

"Your mother is worried about some sort of odd weather pattern approaching the Jupiter." He turned to the Robot. "Robot, I need you to try a long range environmental scan back towards the Jupiter 2 to evaluate weather patterns or any other odd phenomena to the west of the ship. Can you do that if you hook in through the Chariot's sensor array?"

The Robot was silent for a few moments, clicking and humming to himself. He finally spoke. "Affirmative. However, Chariot sensors are affected by line-of-sight restrictions. In order to obtain a valid probe, the Chariot will have to be moved out of this valley for a clear signal."

Professor Robinson nodded. "As I thought. But we need to keep the Chariot here for power and shelter."

"Nevertheless," the Robot spoke in tones oddly reminiscent of Dr. Smith. "I shall need an unbroken line of sight for a proper evaluation of distant weather patterns."

"Hey, Dad," Will said, his mouth full. "Sorry," he swallowed after receiving a stern, reproving look from his father, then pressed on. "Maybe we can set up a remote array outside the valley and hook it via wireless to the Chariot."

"Yes, that could work," John said, considering. "We've only come about a mile into this valley, and we have the backup radio dish in the Chariot's storage bin, as well as some assorted electronics. Why don't you and the Robot see what you can use to put something together? I'd really rather not interrupt drilling right now to move the Chariot."

Will was shifting his feet in the sand, his keen mind already grappling with the problem. "Yeah! There's a spare router, motherboard, two laptops, and some other stuff in there I could use. C'mon, Robot! Let's see what we can use!"

"Okee-doke," the Robot said blithely, swiveled, and followed Will towards the cargo bay at the back of the Chariot.

At that moment, Don shut the boring machine down for an adjustment. In the sudden quiet, Will, John, and Don all froze in whatever attitudes they were in. There was a sound still echoing around the canyon, and it was not from the laser drill; in fact, the piercing whine from the laser must have been blanketing this other sound, but now it came through loud and clear. It was a ululating howling that came from all sides. It was not near, but it was not very far, either. The howling slowly subsided into an uncanny stillness, a quiet disturbed only by the eternally moaning winds passing through the cliff tops far overhead.

Don had snatched up a nearby laser rifle and looked up towards the overhanging cliffs. "What the hell was that?"

Will had straightened up from where he was rummaging in the storage bin behind the Chariot and looked apprehensively back at his father. "Dad...?"

"Alert!" the Robot announced abruptly, throwing his arms about as if to draw attention to himself. "I am detecting possible life forms! Alert!"

Don had moved quickly around to the back of the Chariot where John, Will, and the Robot were gathered. West had grabbed a second laser rifle and tossed it to John, who caught it deftly and powered the unit up with a smooth motion.

John was scanning the cliff tops, holding the rifle defensively before him. "Lay it out, Robot! What are you sensing?"

"Possible life forms, position indeterminate, number of targets indeterminate." He retracted his arms into his torso with a loud clank. "The howling noise we had heard indicates a biological source, not a natural phenomenon like wind movement, ground shifting, or other planetary irregularities. Whatever was making the sound, the howling seemed to be a sympathetic response to the noise created by the laser drilling rig."

"Yes," Don agreed, his voice a whisper as if he were trying not to draw attention to themselves. "It stopped when I turned the laser drill off."

"Can you triangulate the location at all?" John queried. "Where was it coming from?"

"Unknown. Stability of acoustical signature is distorted by surrounding mountainous terrain making triangulation impossible."

"But you detect a possible alien presence?" John pressed.

"Readings are sporadic and inconclusive. Natural ore in these hills may be affecting quality of signals. However, I am not detecting biological presence at this time."

They stood around, staring about for a few moments, and the two men slowly lowered their rifles.

"Wasn't that the same kind of sound we heard when we first arrived here?" Will asked, looking up at his father.

John nodded. "I think so, Will. But, it's a lot closer now. That might not be a good sign, depending on whatever is making all the noise."

"You heard this before?" Don asked.

"Yes," John answered. "Will and I heard it just after we pulled into this valley in the Chariot. I thought it was the wind. Don, how is the mining coming?"

Back to business, Don dropped his rifle to his side and gestured towards the laser boring machine. "Outstanding. This is the best deutronium vein we have ever come across. Another couple of days, we should have everything we need for a return to Earth along with a twenty percent reserve."

"I want a fifty percent reserve. Can we do it?"

"Sure," Don answered readily enough. "I can squeeze that amount out in no time, but it'll make for pretty cramped quarters for us on the drive back to the Jupiter. The extra drums will fill all the rear seats, and we'll probably have to strap a couple of additional containers on top just so we can each have a seat, Robot included."

"All right," John decided. "Keep at it. I want that reserve for any contingencies that might arise. If we need to, we can always shuttle back and pick up some more after delivering the bulk of it to the ship. Will, see what you can do about what we were discussing--the weather scan back towards the Jupiter. Robot, while Will is getting his materials ready, I'd like you to run a scan for life forms by heading up-valley. Do the best you can with a random search pattern."

The Robot's eye diodes fastened on him. "You mean: you want me to have a look around?"

John smiled. "That's it. Take however long you need, but I'd like you back no later than early evening. Definitely before nightfall. And don't go too deep into the gorge. We have no idea what's really back there."

"Very well, Professor. As you all like to say, I'm _on _it_._"

Without further comment, the Robot swiveled on his base, cocked his sensors to straight ahead, and trundled deeper into the valley off the nose of the Chariot, trailing a plume of dust. His tracks left ruts in the sand, but he appeared to have no trouble negotiating the soft terrain.

Will watched him go with some concern. "Dad, will he be all right?"

"Of course, son," John answered. "He'll be fine. Now get to work on your project; your mother is worried, and we need to help her out, too."

"Okay."

The two men watched Will open the rear storage compartment of the Chariot and start rummaging around.

John leaned closely to Don, whispering. "We both stay armed at all times, Don. Let's get back to work. If you'll keep the drilling and extracting going, I'll work the fuel processor. I think we need to finish as soon as possible and get the hell out of here."

"You got that right," Don agreed animatedly. "This place gives me the creeps."

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, the laser sang its whining tune as the two men dug more raw ore out of the soil. Tubes attached to the drill housing transferred the semi-liquid sludge that was brought up into the portable processing station set up nearby. Most of the refining was automatic, but Professor Robinson chose to monitor the processor carefully, tweaking settings to accommodate irregularities in the raw ore being pumped to the surface. Don was handling the drill, adjusting speed and depth to follow irregularities in the deposit far underground. Both men cast glances upwards on occasion, unwilling to turn the drill off to hear if there were other sounds being made in the gorge.

Meanwhile, Will tinkered behind the Chariot, connecting cables and wires to electronic boxes, soldering connections, and testing circuits with a hand-held computer. He was absorbed in his own work, taking great pleasure in crafting something out of odds and ends that would undoubtedly be helpful to the safety of his family.

Shadows were lengthening in the gorge as Don shut down the drill. The howling that could then be heard caused everyone to look up fearfully. The chilling baying rose to a high crescendo, then faded away to an echoing silence.

Don swore under his breath, then resumed his work to secure the drill for the night.

"Dad!" Will called alertly, pointing up-gorge. "The Robot's back!"

Professor Robinson glanced up the gorge. Sure enough, the familiar, flashing lights on the Robot's front console could clearly be seen against the backdrop of the shadowy canyon, heading in their direction. John reached down for a rag and wiped his hands.

"Wonder what he'll have to say," Don commented, cleaning components of the drill as he disassembled it.

After a few minutes, the Robot was back in their midst. All work ceased as the three men gathered around for his report.

"Alien life forms confirmed," he said, rolling to a stop in front of Professor Robinson. "Gorge to the south splits off into higher canyons that eventually lead into a mountain range of significant proportions. I was unable to explore all areas due to the complexity of the interlocking gorges, tunnels, and passes, as well as the time constraints set upon me."

"That's understandable," John said. "Go on. What about the life forms?"

"Life forms are computed to be native to this planet and inhabit the higher mountains further south."

"So that's why in the last three years we never saw them?" Don asked.

"I believe so. Our last landing site was five hundred sixty two miles further north of our present position, and the life forms appear to be indigenous to mountainous areas further south. That, of course, is a subjective conclusion."

"Did you see them?" Will asked curiously.

"Sensors detected auditory and motile evidence only. No visual sighting was made. Life forms were somewhat reclusive and retreated upon my approach."

"So you don't know what they look like," John mused to himself. His gaze returned sharply to the Robot. "Are they hostile?"

"Insufficient data. Unable to compute intentions."

"You didn't see them, don't know what they are, and don't know if they're hostile. So what the hell have you been doing for the last couple of hours?" Don asked impatiently.

"Professor Robinson asked for an evaluation of the existence of life forms. I have confirmed that. Due to the restriction to return before nightfall, I was unable to investigate further."

Don rolled his eyes and sighed. "Well, I guess some information is worthwhile. Where do we go from here?"

John looked past their meager campsite into the deeply shadowed gorge. "There doesn't seem to be an immediate danger, and we really can't leave until our mining operation is complete." He ran a hand through his hair. "How many more days, would you say, before we have enough deutronium?"

"At least four at the rate we're pulling up ore, if you still want that fifty percent reserve."

"I do, no question," John affirmed. "What if we go to a twenty-four hour operation?"

Don's eyes widened. "Not stopping at all? I suppose we could, if you and I take shifts, but it'll be ambitious. I suppose we can keep it up for a limited time."

"I can take a shift!" Will looked up at his father pleadingly. "Me and the Robot can keep the drill working."

John was about to refuse outright, and had even opened his mouth to say so, when he stopped himself. Will was resourceful and fully capable of dealing with the drilling operation, as automated as it was. Pairing him with the Robot made sense in some ways, since the machine could assist with any heavy lifting as well as provide guidance should mining difficulties present themselves. The Robot also possessed his formidable defensive capabilities to help protect the entire company. Also, John and Don would both be just a few paces away and could be awakened at any time in case of problems, alien or otherwise.

"All right," he finally nodded, much to Will's surprised delight, since he was preparing himself for further arguing. "All three of us, I mean four of us," he inclined his head apologetically towards the Robot, "will conduct round-the-clock drilling until we have either exhausted this vein or have the required fuel. Don and I will do the night shift, and Will and the Robot will tend to the rig during the day."

Don massaged his chin. "John, that would work, and I agree with letting Will help, but maybe we need different teams." John regarded him as he continued. "How about if Will and I team together, and you and the Robot? That way one of us—you or me—is always on the drill in case of breakdowns or processing problems. And, how about if we do four hours on, four hours off, instead of night/day turns?"

"Like the old seafaring shifts?" John chuckled. "I like the imagery, but let's try six hour shifts. That will allow us all a little more sleep. And the Robot can stay on straight through all the shifts; he can recharge when he needs to."

"Makes sense," Don agreed.

"Will, what do you think?"

"Sure!" Will answered enthusiastically, extremely gratified to be included in the decision-making as an equal.

"Robot, since you're going to be part of this operation, what's your opinion?"

"I am not programmed to provide 'opinions'. However," the Robot allowed, "division of labor appears adequate to the tasks required."

"I think he said he likes the plan," Don winked at Will.

"Dad," Will asked, "what about the radio/sensor link for Mom?"

John shook his head. "The drilling operation is priority. If we can get this wrapped up in a day or two, we can look into whatever is worrying your mother. If we're going to do this, I really can't spare you right now."

Will glanced disappointedly at the pile of electronics nearby he was assembling into a sensor transmitter array. "Okay, Dad," he sighed.

"All right, then!" John said, concluding the discussion. "It's all settled. Robot, break out our extra floodlights and let's get some light in this gorge. Time to kick this operation into high gear!"

* * * *

"It's water, Mom! Right outside! Come look! This is so weird!"

It was the next morning. On the lower deck, Maureen was just emerging from her cabin to the sight of her daughter hopping up and down outside her door.

"What?" Maureen asked, still blinking away the sleep from her eyes.

Penny grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the entry hatch to the main landing gear strut ladder. "C'mon! You need to see this. It's like a lake or something outside!" "What's all this hubbub?" exclaimed an irritated Dr. Smith, who stood at his cabin door, looking tousled. He was still clad in his night-clothes: the knee length sleeping shirt with stripes, and the whimsical night cap on his head. "All I ask is quiet in the morning so I can obtain my required ten hours of uninterrupted rest."

"C'mon, Dr. Smith! Wait'll you see outside!"

"What are you carrying on about!" he blustered crossly. "This is far too early for childish silliness, and I'm going back to bed! What's all this nonsense about a lake?"

"What's going on?" Judy walked out of her cabin, wrapping a robe tightly about her. "Penny?"

"C'mon!" she repeated, jumping up and down with excitement at her discovery. "We have a lake or something outside!"

Shortly, the four were climbing down the Jupiter's landing strut, stepping gingerly onto the cold desert floor where the landing pad had sunk into the sand.

Penny pointed towards the west. "Look!"

Dawn had painted the eternal gray of morning on the Jupiter 2, causing its silver hull to appear drab and steely. Overhead, the stratus ceiling seemed low enough to touch. The banded clouds were moving rapidly from west to east in sullen ranks in a high wind that could not be felt on the ground. A singular calm existed at the surface, lending a surreal atmosphere to what lay before the wondering eyes of the Robinson party.

A few hundred yards distant, a shore had miraculously formed. As far as the eye could see, stretching north and south, a line of shallow water lapped in small, oily waves over the desert sand, darkening it with moisture. The gray water extended all the way to the horizon, where serrated, unidentifiable shapes--ostensibly _waves_--rose and fell in the murky distance. To the family, it felt like the ship had been magically transported in the middle of the night to some nameless shore at the edge of an everlasting sea. Yet, to the east, the desert marched away in unbroken dunes, continuously formed and re-formed by the shifting winds of the planet for countless eons.

The four stared at the water in complete disbelief until Penny, grinning at their reaction to her discovery, proclaimed, "Is that weird, or what?"

"That's probably as good a word as any I could come up with," Maureen finally agreed, her eyes scanning the horizon. "This can't be good. We'd better get dressed and go have a closer look at this."

"We need to call Professor Robinson at once!" Dr. Smith cried decisively, his nightshirt billowing about his knees. "We are in terrible danger here, and he must be made aware of our predicament! He must return instantly to address this environmental anomaly!"  
"Now, Dr. Smith," Maureen sighed. "We don't know that yet. They have been drilling all night on their new schedule, and I'm not going to bother them until we investigate this a little further. Come on, girls. Let's get dressed and we'll take a little walk."

Less than an hour later, they were standing on what could only be termed a "beach." After dressing, they all trooped the intervening distance to the waterline and stood there, examining the odd phenomenon of an ocean springing upon them overnight. Tiny wavelets weakly tossed white foam at their feet, turning the desert sand into soft mud. Maureen cast her eyes into the western distance, scanning the wave-tossed panorama.

"Judy," she said, "let me see those binoculars."

"What do you see?" Judy asked, standing next to her mother as Maureen surveyed the horizon with the powerful optics. The internally powered focusing motor adjusted the lens to compensate as she swept them across the horizon and back again. A cool breeze coming across the water ruffled their hair gently.

Maureen lowered the binoculars before answering. She handed them to Judy and said, "Have a look and tell me what you think."

Judy looked through the eyepieces and gasped. "Wow! Those are waves out there! And big ones, like waves breaking on surf! I can see the foam as they roll towards us…"

"What?!" Dr. Smith exclaimed. "Absurd. Breakers would imply we're standing on an ocean! Let me see those…" He took the binoculars from Judy. "It's all fuzzy. I can't see anything through these. You must have broken them."

"I think you hit the 'off' button, there," Judy observed politely.

"Ah," Smith said, casting a sidelong glance at the women, "I've fixed them. Now, let me see…"

Silhouetted against the clouds, waves could be seen on the horizon, breaking in rising and falling ranks. A faint sound, like surf, could now be discerned with the freshening breeze, but muted into an indistinct muttering.

"Yes," Smith agreed. "Those are breaking waves. This is an ocean! Maybe even the great western ocean coming to drown us all!"

"How far do you think we're looking?" Maureen pondered.

"Probably four or five miles based on the curvature of this planet," Judy estimated. "But we might just be seeing the tops of those waves, so they could be further away."

"Hey, you guys," Penny interrupted. She was crouching by the waterline, forming the mud into the beginnings of a sand castle. "This water keeps moving forward."

"What?" Maureen asked.

"Look," she pointed at the water. "It's moving towards us!"

Maureen looked down at the tiny wavelets at her feet. "Penny, it's just the waves that keep coming in."

Penny looked down at the mound of mud that had been her first attempt at a sand castle. It was disintegrating into shifting sand as the waves surrounded it. "I don't know; I think the tide is coming in."

"This planet doesn't have a moon to cause tides," Judy remarked.

Maureen stepped back; water slowly filled the imprints of her shoes where she had been standing on what had been previously dry sand. She frowned. "Penny might be right."

"I told you!" Smith cried. "We'll be under water in no time! We're doomed, doomed!" And, with that, he turned, gave the binoculars brusquely back to Judy and hustled back towards the Jupiter at a respectable clip.

Judy stared down at the waterline. "This may be some sort of natural phenomenon that occurs regularly here. We need more information. Sure wish the Robot was here. He could probably do an analysis or something and figure this out."

"Do you think Dr. Smith is right?" Penny asked with concern, watching Smith's retreating back. "We might all be drowned?"

Maureen placed a hand comfortingly on Penny's shoulder. "Now, Penny, you know how Dr. Smith likes to fly off the handle at everything. Judy's right: we need more data." She glanced at Judy. "But, I do think Dr. Smith is right on one thing: your father needs to know about this. Penny, would you mind staying here and just watching for a while? Let me know if anything changes? In fact, why don't you get some markers or stakes and plant them at the water's edge? That way, we'll be able to see how it's changing."

"Sure, Mom," Penny answered. "I know where there are some old metal rods I can use. I'll go get them." She turned and ran towards the ship.

"Great idea," Maureen called after her. "Come on, Judy. Let's check the weather data so we have more to tell your father than just that an ocean has miraculously formed on our doorstep. And, we still need some breakfast…life goes on!"

"I'm for that," Judy agreed eagerly. She looked over her shoulder at the gray expanse of water. "Penny is right, though. This rates pretty high on the weirdness scale, even for this planet."

"Well, we're not going into panic mode just yet," Maureen assured her, walking briskly towards the spaceship some distance away. "We need more information. Come on."

* * * *

"It seems to be approaching us at about ten or eleven feet an hour."

John was listening intently as Maureen described their situation later that morning.

"Judy and Penny set out metal rods to measure the advance of the water, and that's what they've been able to measure over the last couple of hours. Now, I have no idea if that's going to be a constant rate, or if it will stop, or increase. We just don't know. But…" her voice faded over a sudden burst of static. John, cursing under his breath, tweaked a frequency setting on the radio, and her voice returned, "…a couple of hundred yards, so if it continues at that rate, the water will be up to the Jupiter in about two days."

Both Will and Don were in the Chariot with him, listening to the conversation. Outside, the Robot was monitoring the drilling operation by himself. The intense, modulating whine from the drill could still be heard in muted form through the tough transparent glass of the Chariot.

"Two days?" Don began, then stopped as John raised his hand to interrupt him.

"And the breakers?" John asked.

"We can still see them if we use the binoculars, but they're still pretty far away. There are definitely big waves out there, so the water must be really deep in that direction and being pushed towards us with tremendous force."

"All right," John said. "Keep everyone close to the ship, but I'd really like someone to be on watch outside the whole time. Keep me apprised on a regular basis. It doesn't sound like you're in any kind of immediate danger, in spite of what Smith says." John glanced up at Don. "In fact, why don't you give him the first watch? Call me in three hours." Don grinned wolfishly.

"Will do. Jupiter, out."

John replaced the microphone. "Well, that's an odd kettle of fish."

Don guffawed. "Fish. Water. I get it. Very funny. Isn't anything ever easy on this damn planet? So now we have aliens we haven't seen yet and an ocean that wants to swallow our ship. Swell."

"I'm just glad we went to twenty-four hour drilling ops," John said. "Tomorrow, at this time, if the ore keeps coming up the way it is, we'll be very close to our supply requirements. Both of you," he nodded at Don and Will, "need to get back to sleep. Sorry I had to wake you with this."

"Wouldn't have missed it," Don stated.

"Dad," Will said, "I can't sleep now; it's nearly noon. Can I help you and the Robot for a while?"

John laid a hand on Will's shoulder. "Not now, son. I appreciate your volunteering, but you and Don are going to have another long night. You need your rest now. Go on."

"Oh, all right," Will said, turning towards the back of the Chariot where their sleeping bags were laid out.

"You, too, Don," John added with a jerk of his head towards the rear of the vehicle. "Get what rest you can."

"Wake me at the next radio call from the ship, okay?" Don asked.

John simply said, "Go on."

* * * *

It was far into the night. Don was hunched over the controls to the drill, fine tuning the mining operation and observing the steady flow of the semi-solid ore coming out of the ground. Will was over at the fuel processor, monitoring the gages that gave a second-by-second status of how the ore conversion was proceeding. Banks of 1000-watt halogen lights set on twenty foot stands intensely illuminated the worksite, but the gorges beyond the scope of the lights were lost in mysterious shadow. Near Will, the Robot stood quietly, accepting a charging current that came through an electrical cable clipped to terminals on his power pack. The other end of the cable was connected to their field generator that was powering everything on the worksite.

Will straightened with a grimace from his examination of the panel on the processing unit, stretched his hands over his head, and looked up towards the tops of the canyons far overhead. At that moment, the Robot's bubble top popped to full extension, and he began swiveling left and right, throwing his arms out and seemingly clawing at the air like one possessed. The electrical cable was yanked out of the power pack in a shower of sparks.

Will jumped away in some alarm, staring at the Robot. "What are you doing?" he yelled over the whine of the drill nearby. "What's wrong?"

"Warning!" the Robot whooped in alarm. "Multiple targets, alien life forms, all converging from bearing one-seven-two degrees, ninety four yards and closing rapidly! Hostile intent indicated! Danger!"

Will looked wildly up the gorge to the south but saw nothing beyond the glow from their lights. Spinning around, he sprinted over to where Don, unaware, was still tinkering with the controls of the laser drill.

"Don! Don!" Will cried, grabbing West's arm.

Startled, Don straightened up and looked down at Will, observing the youngster's frightened expression. Thinking something was wrong at the processing station, he quickly mashed the drill cutoff switch, instantly shutting down the drill. Smoke and vapor poured out of the hole underneath the drill at the cessation of the drilling operation, and the intense magnesium-like glare from the laser tip faded.

"What's wrong?" he asked with concern.

His voice trailed off as he noticed the continued wild gyrations from the Robot. At the same time, now that the drill had been silenced, all of them heard the loud, ululating baying coming from the dark gorges to their south. It was getting closer this time, not fading away at the cessation of the drilling noise.

"Potentially hostile aliens approaching, multiple targets!" the Robot repeated stridently. "Seventy yards and closing rapidly from up-gorge!"

"Robot!" Don commanded instantly. "Power up defensive systems! Assume position between us and incoming targets!"

"Acknowledged! Alien life forms approaching rapidly, fifty four yards and closing! Multiple contacts! Danger! Danger!" The Robot trundled over to the middle of the canyon, facing the dark gorges beyond. He outstretched his arms, claws vertical, and blue electrical arcs began sparking and playing over them. "Defensive systems activated!"

"Will!" Don cried as he stooped down to pick up his laser rifle. "Go get your father! Quick!"

Without another word, Will whirled and sprinted for the Chariot. Throwing open the door with a crash, he leaped inside and climbed to the back of the vehicle, where Professor Robinson was curled up in his sleeping bag.

"Dad! Dad!" Will yelled.

Professor Robinson sat up with a jerk, his hair disheveled but his eyes instantly alert.

"Son…?"

"Dad! I think we're under attack!"

The Professor came boiling up out of his sleeping bag, still fully clothed, and lunged for the laser rifle he had left nearby. At the same time, Don swarmed up into the Chariot and threw open one of the lockers behind the front passenger seat. His laser rifle was pushed up behind his back.

"Don, what the hell is going on?" John demanded.

"Something's coming down the gorge!" Don replied, rummaging through the locker, making a huge racket and tossing tools and other implements out. "The Robot says whatever it is, it's alien and hostile! Ah, there you are!" With a gratified whoop, he pulled from the locker a well cared for Benelli M1 Super 90 shotgun. "I've always wondered when I might need this baby, and this might just be the time!"

"You crazy madman!" John shouted. "And just what the hell are you going to do with that?"

"Maybe make some noise!" Don said, scrambling for the platform behind the front seats. Straightening, he slid open the Chariot's observation bubble hatch in the roof. "The Robot says he has multiple targets. My Benelli might be just the thing. I'm taking the high ground!" Poking his head and shoulders out, he quickly slammed his weapon on the roof of the Chariot, cocked it, and glared up valley.

"Better stay right here, Will," John instructed his wide-eyed son. "I'm going outside."

"Be careful, Dad!"

"Will!" Don yelled from the roof of the Chariot. "Get me some cartridges! There's a couple of green boxes of them in the locker…quick!" Will scrambled for the locker.

Professor Robinson crawled out of the Chariot, leaped to the ground, and took up a defensive position next to one of the Chariot's main treads. He brought his laser up and took a bead down the sight, past the Robot and towards the darkened gorge.

"Multiple contacts!" the Robot bawled loudly from his position at the front of their worksite. "Bearing one-eighty degrees, twenty yards and closing! Alien life forms confirmed! Intentions: hostile!" The blue electrical nimbus played more brightly about the machine's claws as he readied his defensive system for battle. A steady electrical whine came from the Robot.

"I see something!" Don shouted wildly from the top of the Chariot, bracing the shotgun on the roof of the vehicle. His head flew up and his eyes goggled. "Holy shit!"

Out of the blackness of the gorge came creatures that loped and jumped towards them as if directly out of a nightmare. Too many to count, they bounded towards them, fangs and eyes glittering murderously in the floodlights. They appeared to be similar to wolves, each about the size of a large man, but there most of the similarity ended. Their front quarters were huge and muscular, supporting an enormous head and twin tusks that reached almost to the ground from their upper mouth. Yellow eyes glittered malevolently below a sunken forehead, and long ears were stretched back over their skulls as they charged. Black, matted fur covered their entire bodies, and they moved with bouncing lunges that carried them rapidly over the uneven terrain. Their mouths gaped in the ululating howls the Robinson team had been hearing over the past few days, and the din was ear-splitting and fearsome.

"Robot, fire!" John commanded, raising his own laser rifle, and the entire clearing erupted into pandemonium.

From the Robot's outstretched arms multiple electric arcs spewed out, bathing the gorge in a blinding, blue-white light that overcame even the illumination from the other floodlights. The entire gorge was lit from end to end in the brilliance, and the ground was covered with swirling, lunging beasts that swarmed towards the Robinson party. The aliens that were struck by the Robot's beams went flying backwards to be dashed violently against rocks and boulders, or against their fellows, their remains smoking masses of fur and muscle. Several who actually reached the Robot scrabbled and rebounded ineffectively at the towering metal form, only to be blasted into oblivion a few seconds later by the high voltage discharges.

Meanwhile, the two men had opened up with their own weapons. Don's Benelli erupted in flame and smoke as he rapidly fired shell after shell into the crowding figures. He swore and yelled nonstop as the smoke wrapped him around in stinging fumes, and his ears rang with the deafening concussions from his powerful weapon. He paused only long enough to grab a box of cartridges Will handed up to him, spill them on the roof of the Chariot, reload, and recommence firing.

While Don was spraying wide swathes of destruction with the Italian combat weapon, John was performing more surgical shots with the thin beam of his laser rifle. He was squinting furiously through the sight on his laser, rotating his torso with precise movements, sending sequenced beams with machine-like rapidity into the nearest lunging bodies as they presented themselves. The acrid smell of ozone, gunpowder, and burnt fur all combined as the battle raged, and flying dust obscured the horrific scene.

One of the creatures, in a tremendous bound, leaped onto the roof of the Chariot from an unexpected quadrant and scrabbled towards Don, who was facing away from it and firing forward. The creature's yellow eyes were blazing, and its slavering jaws were opening as it charged at Don.

"Don!" Will screamed from inside the Chariot. "Behind you!"

West swiveled and instinctively pulled the trigger as the alien pounced. The hurtling body fell on him and drove him down into the Chariot, where he smashed head first against the forward sensor console and crumpled onto the floor of the vehicle, the shotgun clattering to the floor next to him.

"Don! Don!" Will cried, scrambling to Don's side.

Then, he looked up in terror as the monster, badly wounded from Don's wild shot but hardly slowing down at all, was twisting and thrashing its way through the upper hatch, its mangled jaw gaping with razor-sharp teeth behind two overhanging fangs. Its yellow eyes were fixed with ferocious, unthinking hunger on the petrified boy, a rattling growl emanating from deep in its throat.

"Move, Will!" Don commanded groggily, pushing Will violently out of the way while rolling away from the oncoming horror. Grabbing the Benelli from the floor as he rolled, he brought it up in a smooth motion and fired point blank into the champing jaws of the creature. The monster received the entire blast full in the face, the impact propelling it back up and out of the hatch opening, hurling the now contorting body onto the ground a few feet ahead of the Chariot and directly in front of Professor Robinson. Even with the ghastly wounds it had, it was still mindlessly trying to get to its feet. John turned dispassionately, lowered his laser and fired, even as the Robot swiveled simultaneously towards it and unleashed another high voltage barrage. The cross-fire instantly incinerated the beast.

Shaking his head blearily and wiping away a trickle of blood that was dripping down the side of his head, Don hauled himself up through the open hatch again. Throwing the Benelli onto the roof, he looked past it for more targets, only to find the aliens flowing back up the gorge and quickly disappearing into its shadows. In a daze, he watched them vanish, then he sank back unsteadily into the Chariot, grimacing and noticing blood flowing from a savage cut on his shoulder where the creature had gouged him.

Will helped him into one of the seats. "Don, are you okay?"

"I'm all right," he growled, pulling his shirt away from the cut, then using it to mop away the blood on his face.

The door to the Chariot crashed open, and John stepped over the threshold, breathing hard. "Don? Good God, man, are you…?"

"I'm fine," West repeated gruffly, annoyed with himself at hearing the unsteadiness in his own voice. "Just got a couple of cuts."

John gave him a cursory examination after dropping his rifle on a nearby seat and hunching over the stricken pilot. "Will, get the first aid kit! It doesn't look too deep. We'll sterilize that and bandage it right away. Who knows what kind of bacteria those things are carrying." He probed Don's scalp next.

"Ow!" West yelped.

"You're right," John said, separating the hairs and looking closely. "Just a cut under here. Scalp wounds just bleed a lot, but after I get it cleaned up, we'll know more."

"What if those things were poisonous?" Will asked as he returned with the first aid kit.

"That's a comforting thought," Don noted as John ripped open an antiseptic pad and began cleaning his shoulder wound. "Hey," he exclaimed, "is anybody watching in case they come back?"

"Looks like we beat off their first attack," John answered, rummaging through the first aid kit and pulling open a few of the small drawers that contained various medical supplies. "But the Robot is out there on guard in case they make another foray. However, Will, shut and lock the door just in case."

Will crawled over to the hatch, leaned out, and grabbed the door to shut it. As he swung it towards him to close it, he noticed the Robot leaning over at a drunken angle, his arms dangling in front of him. "Dad! The Robot! Something's wrong! I'd better go check on him!" He made to move outside.

John looked over his shoulder. "Will! Shut that door and get in here. No one goes outside alone; we'll check on him in just a second." He could see the Robot from where he was, then he returned to cleansing the wound on Don's shoulder. "Come over here and help me."

"But, Dad…"

"Will, now!"

"Sorry, Dad," he apologized, then shut and locked the Chariot's hatch.

John handed Will the ultraviolet sterilization gun to hold over the wound while he tore open another sterile wipe to remove more of the dirt and dried blood.

"You are one lucky guy," John observed. "Any closer and that thing might have gotten your carotid artery."

Don watched him work, saying, "That's me. Mr. Lucky. Ouch! Easy with that..."

"Quit your yammering. It's just a scratch."

Will glanced worriedly outside towards where the Robot stood silently. "I'll bet the Robot completely discharged his power cells with all that firing. I hope he'll be okay?"

"Better hurry," Don urged. "If the Robot is out of action, there's no telling what those creatures are up to out there. They may be regrouping for another attack."

"Just sit still," John instructed. "I'll have you patched in a few minutes. Will, keep an eye outside and tell me the minute you see anything."

"Okay."

John's tone changed to self-recrimination as he worked. "Don, I should have had our force field generator set up days ago. You even suggested it when we first arrived, and you were clearly right." He shook his head, angry at himself. "We could have all been killed."

"Ouch, dammit!" Don flinched again as John pressed the bandage over the wound on his shoulder. "Who could have known for sure. I've never seen anything like that. It was like a concerted, pre-arranged attack, no warning, no nothing, and I don't think they were interested in either our deutronium on taking prisoners!"

John looked at him. "It felt that way to me, too. If so, I'll bet they'll be back and maybe with a different attack strategy. If we're lucky, it will take them some time to get over their defeat and lick their wounds, but I don't think we've seen the last of them."

"Why did they attack us?" Will asked, holding the sterilization light steady, bathing Don's entire shoulder in the pulsing blue light.

John sat back against one of the seats. "No idea. Here, now, shine that light on his scalp there to sterilize that wound, too. No, more towards the left. That's it. Hold it right there." He glanced outside at the grotesquely twisted bodies littering the camp. "The noise from the laser borer seemed to stir them up. Maybe we were inadvertently screaming a challenge at them with the racket from the drill, and that brought them down around our ears."

"Yeah, or maybe they're just hungry. That fellow," he nodded to the smoking mass outside in front of the Chariot, "seemed pretty intent on making me into a meal."

"All right, then, I think that's the best we can do," John noted, closing up the first aid kit, taking the sterilization light from Will, and packing everything away. "Can't really bandage your scalp unless I cut your hair. Do you want me to…?"

"I think not," Don assured him vehemently, "you're not _touching_ my hair, Professor!" He touched his scalp gingerly. "It's not bleeding anymore anyway."

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that," John said dryly. "You just need to clean up a little, unless you like the pirate look with blood in your hair and face." John wiped his hands and shoved the first aid kit under one of the seats. "Are you up to moving around? I'd tell you to rest, but I know you wouldn't anyway, and I need you to help outside."

Don grinned gamely, flexing his shoulder. "I'm fine. Let's check the worksite for damage and get ready in case of another attack."

After scanning the worksite for any movement, they carefully opened the Chariot's entry door and cautiously moved outside, brandishing their weapons ahead of them. The air was still hazy with smoke and dust, but there was no sign of life or movement, nor was there any demoniac howling that presaged the last attack. The gorge was silent. The odors of gunpowder, ozone, and blasted flesh hung heavy in the still air.

Will jumped down ahead of the two men and ran over to the Robot, while John and Don walked around, checking for life in the remaining alien forms. Will quickly probed over and around the Robot, twisting knobs and pushing buttons, then pulled the power pack out of its socket on the side of the automaton's barrel-shaped metal torso and studied it.

"Yeah, it's dead," Will called out, noting the tiny indicator needles on the palm-sized circuit board all pointing to zero. "I'll connect this one to the charger and get the backup pack." He ran to the back of the Chariot and threw open the cargo storage bin, searching among the various components for another power pack.

"Looks like all these are dead," John said, prodding a nearby creature.

"We'll need fresh packs for the laser rifles," Don observed, checking for damage around the laser drill and fuel processor, "and we better set up the force field generator before they decide to come back and try for us again."

John looked over at West, who was still carrying his Benelli. "I assume you have more shells for that relic of yours?"

"Relic?" Don responded in mock outrage, holding his weapon before him. "Old Bessie here? Don't be insulting her…she's still got what it takes. Wouldn't take on a pack of hungry alien werewolves without it!"

John shook his head. "Alien werewolves. I'll have to admit, that's a pretty good description."

"Works for me," Don said, prodding a blackened lump on the ground with his foot. "And due to my up close and personal encounter with one of them, I'd say I was in a great position to make that assessment."

John chuckled despite the situation. "All right, alien werewolves it is, then. Let's set up the force field generator and turn it to its anti-werewolf setting."

"I'll drink to that. In fact, I could do with a serious shot of bourbon right about now."

"If you can find some out here in uncharted space," John assured him, "I'll drink with you!"

It was not more than fifteen minutes later that all three were standing in a circle around the pile of electronics that had been Will's project to build an array to provide the Robot a sensor link back towards the Jupiter. All the items had been set neatly on a small folding table, but the table had been overturned in the attack. Everything Will had been working on had been scattered and trampled and lay broken and twisted. However, they were staring with the most distress at a compact metal console with a projecting tube that lay dented and torn open in the sand. Wires and circuit boards protruded from an open access panel; shards of glass from various lights and gages lay sparkling in the sand around it in a welter of destruction. The tube itself was bent and half torn from the housing.

"Well," Don finally spoke in the best nonchalant tone he could muster, shrugging theatrically and watching John's darkening frown with some alarm. "Hey, what're you going to do? It wasn't Will's fault, he was just doing what we asked him to do."

Will's hands were at his side; he was looking down at his feet, shuffling his shoes in the sand. "Dad, I'm sorry. I thought it was important to find out what was happening at the Jupiter. I just needed two more circuit boards to complete the transmitter, and the only ones left were in the force field generator. I was going to ask, but you and Don were so busy." He hazarded a look up at his father. "I was going to put them right back in the force field generator after we were done with them."

"Of course you were," Don agreed, nodding vigorously and glancing sideways at Professor Robinson. "That was a great idea. I'll bet it would have worked better than any of our other sensors. And how could you have known we'd come under some alien attack…" His voice trailed off; he fidgeted uncharacteristically.

There was a tense pause where nothing further was said. Then, the beginnings of a smile played at the corners of John's lips and the gathering thunderheads over his brow seemed to lift. "Okay, knock it off, you two," he rumbled. "So that's why the force field generator was lying out here with all your other bits and pieces?"

"Yes, sir."

"And now, it is so much electronic junk, thanks to our attackers."

Trying to change the subject--and none too subtly at that--Don looked over his shoulder at their drilling rig that still stood off to one side. "The good news is that all those aliens never touched the drill. We were lucky, there. I can start drilling again anytime."

Sensing he was off the hook, Will look up confidently. "Dad, I can fix it!"

Looking down doubtfully at the wreck of the force field generator, John was nonetheless moved to say, "Okay, son, do what you can. Don and I will get back to drilling." He looked over at the Robot, who was once again standing upright, ticking and whirring to himself and watching the three men. "Robot, how are you doing?"

The Robot turned slightly, showing the backup power pack in his side. It was connected with wires to a portable charger Will had placed on the ground beside him. "Power levels are at 65%. The reserve pack was partially discharged, so full power will not be achieved for another hour. Otherwise, I am well."

"Glad to have you back with us, and," John paused, "thank you for your help."

"You're welcome." He gave a jaunty toss of his claw in salute, evoking laughter from all.

Hours passed into the night, and the camp remained a buzz of activity. Will was hunkered down over the force field generator, desperately trying various components and replacing others to get the machine to work with no success. The Robot hovered nearby, now fully charged, suggesting various electronic pieces to try or providing advice that was more or less helpful.

The laser drill sang loudly into the night, still pulling gratifying amounts of deutronium ore up into the processor that was humming away, in its turn, producing propulsion fuel. Don guided the drill, fine tuning the operation to maximize ore withdrawal, his sweating face illuminated by the magnesium-bright glow emanating from the mechanism. He was in constant motion between the boring machine and the fuel processor, both of which, while heavily automated, still required attention to handle the vagaries of the now-accelerated mining operation. His Benelli was slung over his shoulder.

John stood on top of the Chariot, a laser rifle in one hand and another slung over his shoulder. He was constantly scanning the gorge and the cliffs overhead with light-sensitive binoculars. They had turned several of their halogen floodlights outwards to illuminate the gorge, but their beams only penetrated the blackness so far. Several times, he believed he could see distant yellow eyes staring from the shadows of the gorge, but the creatures, if they were still massed out there, had not shown themselves further.

Don shut down the drill to replace another extension tube. As he did so, the now all too familiar baying could be heard again coming from deep in the canyons to the south. He cast a casual glance up the canyon, and then returned his attention to his work as the alien howling fell silent again. He kept up a vigorous muttering to himself as he applied himself to the required physical labor, liberally sprinkling his diatribes with four-letter terms that he knew would have earned him a stern and appalled rebuke from Maureen, had she been present. Bracing his feet apart, he manhandled the heavy drill extension into position, grunting with the effort required. Hefting a huge pipe wrench, he tightened the assembly down, then punched the start button to resume drilling. The entire assembly lowered itself automatically into the deep hole, hit bottom, and ignited once more, blasting out more heat, vapor, and brilliant light.

"Hah, thirty seconds to change that out," he snarled with satisfaction to himself, backing away from the laser tripod. "I'll have it down to fifteen seconds before we're done. Hey, John!" he yelled up over the noise, wiping his brow with a greasy forearm and stepping closer to the Chariot to be heard, "by morning we'll have all our fuel plus a twenty-five percent reserve in volume. If we go with that fifty percent you want, that'll probably take one more day."

"We'll see," John called back, continuing his scan through the binoculars. "Keep at it for now."

"Righto," Don answered cheerfully, resuming his tinkering on the processing unit.

* * * *

"Dad!" Will yelled up to him. "Dad!"

Another dreary, gray morning had come, but it was an improvement from the danger-filled darkness of the night before. John was seated in a folding chair on the roof of the Chariot; he straightened abruptly, then grabbed at the binoculars as they started sliding off his lap. He shot an alarmed glance towards the Robot, then relaxed as he saw the machine was still standing vigilant at the front of the campsite facing the gorge, as commanded. Don was sitting cross-legged on the ground near the drill rig, his back facing John and his head bent forward, his face hidden. Blinking in the early morning light, John guiltily suspected he might have been dozing. He looked down blearily through the open roof hatch at Will, who was standing there in his pajamas looking up at him.

"What is it, Will," he grated, clearing his throat and trying not to slur his words.

Will, who had been asleep in the back of the Chariot on his father's orders, was pointing at a bright light that was flashing on the radio console. "Do you want me to get that?"

"Yes, pick it up, I'll be right there."

Will climbed into the driver's seat, picked up the microphone, flipped a switch on the console and spoke.

"Come in Jupiter 2, this is the Chariot."

"Chariot? Will? Is that you?"

"Yes, Mom," he answered, watching as his father stiffly climbed down into the Chariot.

"Is your father there?"

"He's coming, hold on."

At the Jupiter, Maureen gripped her microphone tightly. "Have you been attacked again?"

"No, Mom," came Will's static-filled reply.

"Ask him how Don is," Judy asked, hovering anxiously behind Maureen.

Maureen held up a hand. "Just a minute, Judy."

"This is the end!" Dr. Smith wailed, staring out the main viewport. "We will be swallowed by the ocean, never to be seen again!"

"Dr. Smith, please!" Maureen said, annoyed, motioning for silence.

"This wretched world is alive!" Smith mumbled to himself. "It wants to maroon us here forever! Doomed, doomed!"

"Yes, Maureen," came Professor Robinson's voice, distorted by atmospherics interfering with the transmission.

"John!" she exploded in relief, then realized how she sounded, took a deep breath, and spoke in a more level tone of voice. "How are you all?" Judy, Penny, and even Dr. Smith crowded closer to the speaker.

"We're all a little tired, but we're fine. The aliens haven't shown themselves again, although we can still hear them howling in the distance."

"That's a relief!" Maureen said. "Is Don doing okay?"

"Tell Judy he's fine! He's been up all night doing all the drilling while the Robot and I have kept watch. And, to answer you next question, Will is fine, too. He got a few hours of sleep last night. Now, how are things with you?"

Maureen looked up at Judy, then plunged on. "John, the water is nearly up to us!"

"You're breaking up slightly. What about the water?"

Maureen leaned up to look out the main viewport. The "shoreline" was now within a hundred feet of the Jupiter. Wind was blowing from the west, and taller waves could be seen rolling and breaking further out, perhaps a mile or two at the most. The Jupiter landing site was still dry, but the sand nearby was already turning a darker hue as the advancing body of water turned it into mud. An entire ocean appeared to be creeping towards them out of the west with an almost visible closure rate.

"It must be that ocean in the west that we crossed when we first arrived on this planet," Maureen finished after describing what she was seeing, "but I have no idea why it's doing what it's doing. Could it be some sort of yearly tidal movement we haven't seen before?"

"There's no telling without further study," John answered. "However, I don't think we have time for that, considering how fast the water is approaching." There was a burst of static, then the frequency cleared, and John's voice came through with startling clarity. "I'm going to finish up our mining operation today and pack up this afternoon. We'll get some rest, then start heading back and try to reach you sometime tomorrow morning."

Maureen looked outside for about the thousandth time. She regarded the advancing waters with some doubt, then answered, "That will be fine. We'll continue to monitor the situation and let you know if it changes."

"Sounds good," John agreed. "We'll start back as soon as we've finished here."

"All right, John."

"Maureen, hang in there. With the deutronium fuel we've processed, we'll be able to leave easily in a couple of days and launch into space!" There was a pause. "Anything else?"

"No," Maureen sighed. "Just take care of yourself and get back here as soon as you can."

"Count on it. I love you, darling! Chariot, out."

"I love you, too. Jupiter, out."

Maureen settled back in the command chair after replacing the microphone.

Penny was staring out the viewport at the ocean creeping towards them. She could see the metal rods they had been planting at the edge of the water. Since they had started monitoring the water, they had regularly placed a rod in the ground every hour. The space between the rods was getting progressively wider, indicating that the water was accelerating towards them. She looked at the worried look on her mother's face, and decided not to give voice to the obvious conclusion.

"Come home soon, Dad," Penny thought to herself, watching the steel gray of the advancing water.

36


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note to my Faithful Readers: Thank you all for your encouragement over the past few days! It has driven me like nothing else to keep the saga rolling for you. I should be able to keep putting a chapter out every three to four days. It's great fun, though, and I'm really enjoying the adventure along with you. And now: Chapter 4!

Chapter Four: The Escape

It was morning of the next day. With several hours of sleep, Professor Robinson, Major West, and Will were hard at work finishing the packing of the Chariot. A half-dozen large drums of concentrated deutronium fuel had been manhandled and stuffed into the rear half of the Chariot. Four more were strapped side by side on the roof of the vehicle behind the observation bubble, giving the vehicle a top-heavy look. Unwilling to simply abandon the drilling rig, Professor Robinson had insisted it be completely dismantled and stowed in the Chariot. Along with their tools, clothes, water, and food rations, the inside of the Chariot was packed floor to ceiling with hardly any room left for the three men. In fact, only the two front seats had been left open for sitting, which meant John and Will would be sharing the passenger seat for the long haul back to the Jupiter.

The only dilemma left to solve was what to do about the Robot. John was adamant about leaving the Robot outside to stand guard against any further attack by the aliens, and there was no more room in the Chariot for him anyway. In the end, the three of them--four, if the Robot himself was counted--had decided that the Robot would follow them as they exited the gorge into the deep desert, and Don would run the Chariot only as fast as the Robot could keep up on his tracks. Once they felt they were far enough into the desert that there was no longer a threat from the life forms, they would stop, dismantle the Robot and pack him on top of the Chariot in what little space there was among the fuel drums. Will was most upset with this arrangement, uncomfortable with shutting his friend down, taking him apart and stowing him like so much cargo, but John patiently explained they had no choice other than to abandon the Robot completely. Will immediately saw the value of not pursuing this latter option, and the Robot was in total agreement.

Meanwhile, the situation at the Jupiter landing site was quickly becoming critical. Like a slow moving amoeba, the water had crept to within ten or twenty feet of the spacecraft. In fact, the sand under the landing pads had already begun to turn a darker color as it became saturated with moisture and turned to mud. Maureen had observed to John in considerable alarm that it seemed like the pads were beginning to sink into the softened soil as the water advanced remorselessly towards them at an accelerating pace. At the rate it was advancing, Maureen was estimating that the Jupiter would be sitting in water within twenty four hours.

Between the threat from the aliens and the problem at the Jupiter, Don, John, Will, and, when he could be spared from monitoring the canyons, the Robot, were working at a frantic pace to pack up and return to their imperiled ship. It was midday before John took a final sweeping look around their former drill site. Nothing remained but a huge, deep hole in the ground that they had no time to fill, and the piled-up carcasses of the animals that had attacked them. The Chariot looked ungainly with its load of deutronium drums on top, and the long lengths of the laser drill lashed to the side opposite the entry door. Other containers that could no longer fit inside the Chariot, due to the bulk of the fuel drums taking up all the space, had been roped to the back of the vehicle.

Finally, all was in readiness. John was striding back to the Chariot after having walked the worksite to be sure they were not leaving anything behind. He passed the Robot, who was standing to one side, his bubble-top swiveling to watch the Professor.

"Robot, are you ready?" John asked, pausing at the door of the Chariot.

"Affirmative," he said. "I will follow the Chariot while keeping my sensors directed behind us to monitor for any threat."

"Good." He twisted his head upwards. "Will, are you all right up there?"

Will was sitting on the roof of the Chariot, wedged behind the observation bubble and the secured fuel drums. They had decided since they were not going to go much faster than a rapid jog, Will could sit on the roof--much to his delight--until it was time to stop and secure the Robot. After that, he would come inside and share the passenger seat with John so they could make better time. In any case, the space he was now occupying would be needed for storage of the Robot. "Yes, Dad," he answered eagerly, shifting on the sleeping bag they had folded up for him to sit on. He was grinning, clearly looking forward to riding high on the Chariot for a while.

The Professor nodded with satisfaction, then poked his head inside. "Don, start it up. Let's get the hell out of here." He climbed in, stepping on the tread of the track-drive, drew the door closed behind him, then squeezed up into the passenger seat.

"I second that!" Don exclaimed and hit the starter button.

The Chariot's engine roared to life, echoing off the high cliffs surrounding them. Don immediately engaged the tracks, hauled back on the dual control sticks, and the Chariot lurched backwards. Thrusting one stick forward while holding the other back, he swiveled the entire vehicle ponderously around to face north out of the gorge. Pushing both sticks forward again, he drove the Chariot ahead towards the entrance in the defile that would run them out into the desert.

"Here we go, heading home!" Don proclaimed enthusiastically as the Chariot vibrated around him. "Next stop, the Jupiter 2!"

"There's hardly room to breathe in here," John commented, settling himself as best he could in the seat.

"Yeah," Don agreed, "we're packed in here pretty tight, but we'll be home soon! Just a couple hours worth of driving over the desert…"

John leaned forward and unhooked the microphone, adjusted a frequency dial, and called, "Robot! Come in."

The mechanical voice was further distorted by the radio, but he transmitted clearly enough. "This is the Robot. I have you loud and clear, Chariot."

"Loud and clear, Robot," John answered. "This frequency will remain open. Call right away if you detect any pursuit."

"Affirmative. Motion sensors are clear, but auditory sensors are detecting alien acoustic signature."

"He means they're howling again," Don remarked, pushing the power levers forward. "Ask him how the speed is."

"Robot, how is this speed for you?"

"Over this terrain, I can safely maintain 15 knots without exceeding gyroscopic balance tolerances. Speed is good, continue ahead."

"Will?" John yelled out the open observation port. "How's he looking back there?"

Will climbed up to peer over the fuel drums. "I can see him, Dad. He's right behind us."

Satisfied, John turned to watch the view ahead. Meanwhile, Will looked about him, enjoying the commanding view he had from the top of the Chariot. As he gazed around, his eye caught movement high overhead on the cliff-tops. Craning his neck, he could see dark, sinuous shapes moving over the crags, shadowing the Earth vehicle. Even as he turned to get his father's attention, the Robot called out over the radio.

"Chariot, motion detected! Multiple contacts on cliff tops! Warning! Incoming projectiles!"

"What?!" Don exclaimed, twisting his neck to look overhead. "What projectiles…?"

What he saw caused his eyes to widen in alarm. Rocks were tumbling down the cliff sides. Most were large stones that accelerated down the sides of the gorge in small avalanches, but some were sizeable boulders plummeting towards the Chariot. On the cliff tops, more of the furred creatures could be seen loping and jumping, following the progress of the Robinson vehicle down the gorge. And, it appeared the avalanches were being precipitated by the leading animals.

"They're _bombing_ us?" Don cried out in amazement, then wrenched the controls to avoid several large stones that came bouncing into their path. "They're just animals! How could they be _bombing_ us, for crying out loud?!"

John stood up and thrust his head through the opening in ceiling that gave access to the rooftop. "Will!" he yelled. "Get in here, now!"

Will actually stood upright, pointing wildly over the fuel drums, staggering slightly as Don began evasive action. "Dad, they're coming! They're right behind us!"

At the same moment, Don's attention was diverted to the radio, from which the Robot's voice crackled, "Danger! Alien life forms in pursuit, coming down from the gorges behind us! Engaging defensive systems!" The gorge lit up behind them as the Robot let loose with bolts of destructive energy. He was already starting to fall behind as he slowed to attack the leaping forms coming towards them.

"John!" Don called out. "The Robot is engaging the creatures!"

"Dad, the Robot…!" Will screamed, but Professor Robinson grabbed him and pulled him unceremoniously down into the Chariot.

"Don, get us out of here!" John yelled as he quickly slid the bubble top hatch closed, and Will fell to the floor in a welter of flailing arms and legs. "Push it to the wall! Go! Go! Go!"

Without answering, Don hammered the track levers to the stop and the Chariot took off down the valley, quickly leaving the Robot behind in a cloud of dust and sand.

"Dad, the Robot can't keep up! We can't leave him!" Will cried, craning back over the drums inside the vehicle, trying to see around them to the battle raging behind the Chariot.

"Watch it!" John warned, and Don yanked the control sticks forward and aft, spinning the tracked vehicle around rocks and boulders that were coming at them from both sides of the narrow defile. The Chariot lurched violently on its rugged suspension, straining the straps that were holding the deutronium drums on the roof. One huge boulder crashed against the side of the vehicle, rocking it wildly but not breaking the tough Plexiglas sides.

"Aliens are in full pursuit of the Chariot!" the Robot's voice reported over the radio frequency. "Recommend maximum speed, I will try to delay them as much as possible."

Will had grabbed the microphone from the panel where John had dropped it and mashed the transmit switch frantically. "Robot! Are you okay…?"

"A little busy right now…"

"Is this thing loaded and ready?" John yelled at Don, pulling the Benelli from behind Don's seat.

"Yes!" Don answered, slewing the Chariot nearly sideways, throwing everyone around like sacks of flour. "Just cock it and you're ready to rock. Where are you going? Do you know how to use…?" He swore and yanked the Chariot around, narrowly avoiding an entire mini-avalanche of sliding earth and shards that came roaring down the side of a nearby cliff.

Without another word, John yanked the observation bubble open again and clambered up through the hatch, the shotgun in one hand and a laser rifle in the other.

"Dad! Here!" Will yelled, handing a box of cartridges up to him.

Already on the roof, he leaned down and grabbed the box of cartridges from Will. As he rose up, he suddenly found himself face to face with a nightmare visage that had thrust itself over the fuel drums. All he could see were great, staring eyes, glistening fangs, and black, bristling fur. The thing had already climbed up on the drums despite the crazy gyrating of the Chariot and was coming for him. Great claws scrabbled noisily against the metal drums.

"_Damn_!" he exclaimed, dropped both the laser rifle and box of cartridges, cocked the Benelli, and fired into the alien.

The creature was literally blown off the back of the bucking Chariot into a horde of creatures bounding after the retreating vehicle. Several of them leaped upon the body, tearing it apart in a frenzy of murderous bloodlust, but the others bounded on in pursuit.

The laser rifle clattered off the side of the Chariot, irrevocably lost, but Robinson made a mad grab for the bouncing box of cartridges, snatching them before they went off the side after the rifle. He quickly moved to the drums, giving them a cursory inspection, worried that he had punctured the containers with the wide blast of shot. Fortunately, he found no sign of damage. The Chariot was rocked by another avalanche that came from the right, enveloping John in stinging sand and small rocks. As Don maneuvered left to climb up over it and keep going, John was nearly thrown from the roof of the Chariot by the unexpected turn, crashing bodily against the drums that actually kept him from falling overboard. Slightly dazed, he climbed back on top of the drums and thrust his arms under the straps holding them to the storage rack. Thus braced against the mad gyrations of the Chariot, he raised the shotgun and let loose with thunder and flame.

The creatures were loping close behind, heedless of the rocks and boulders crashing among them. In fact, some were crushed to a pulp by the very avalanches being hurled down from above, but they kept coming in a frothing wave of mindless hunger. John was firing furiously, filling the gorge behind the retreating Chariot with carnage that was appalling, but the aliens were undaunted.

After seven shots, John pulled the trigger on the shotgun and received only a click in response. He hunkered down behind the drums and shoved more cartridges into the gun, then lunged up and began blazing away again. As he emptied the gun for the second time and was staring backwards, he realized the Chariot was trailing thick black smoke.

"Don!" he yelled over his shoulder. "We're smoking! Can't tell where it's coming from, but it doesn't look good!"

Inside, Don was wrestling with the controls. "I know," he shouted back. "We've lost coolant and oil pressure is dropping! Whoa!" he cried, looking ahead.

They were approaching the entry to the gorge. Somehow, the aliens had started an avalanche that was not just a collection of rubble. One entire side of the gorge was toppling, and they were approaching it at breakneck speed.

Don gunned the engine, pushing both track control levers full forward. "Hang on!" he bellowed.

The Chariot leaped forward, but with the increase in speed came a corresponding surge in the vibration coming from the engine. A metallic hissing was coming from somewhere underneath the chassis, and the black smoke coming from the exhaust and other unseen areas underneath the vehicle became more dense. The transparent panels in their frames were rattling as the entire structure of the vehicle twisted and worked in the violence of the passage.

A mound of previously fallen rock blocked their way. Rather than take precious time to drive around it, Don maintained his course and accelerated up and over it in his mad dash for the rapidly disintegrating gorge entrance. The Chariot partially became airborne as it crested the mound, smashing down on the other side, snapping shock absorbers and chassis supports that were never designed to endure such abuse. The vehicle bounced several times, arcing towards the thundering avalanche that was about to bury the entrance to the valley and seal them in.

John, still on the roof, had given up firing on the aliens because all his attention was focused on simply the need to hang on. He had both arms wedged under the straps securing the deutronium drums, and he had his legs braced awkwardly against the observation bubble behind him. His face was twisted in a grimace of effort to hold himself on the furiously bucking machine.

A huge boulder, rolling with frightful velocity down the side of one of the cliff faces, crashed into the side of the vehicle. One of the glass panels instantly exploded inwards, spraying Will and Don with shards of shattered safety glass.

"Stay down, Will!" Don shouted as the inside of the vehicle dissolved into a chaos of whirling dust, smoke, and flying particles of glass. At the impact, Will had covered his head with his arms and hunkered down in the foot-well under the front passenger seat.

"C'mon! C'mon! C'mon!" Don muttered, leaning forward, staring like a madman, urging more speed out of the failing vehicle and ignoring the dust and pieces of safety Plexiglas flying around him. Both hands were locked white-knuckled around the track levers, forcing them full forward against the stops.

At that moment, the Chariot shot out of the canyon just as the leading edge of the roaring avalanche thundered to the valley floor. A great deal of sand, rock shards, and stones rattled off the drums on the roof, but the Chariot was through, its treads whirling, propelling the Robinson party into the clear of the open desert.

However, behind them, the pursuing aliens were not so lucky, getting caught in the very avalanche precipitated by their fellows from the cliff tops. Swirling dust and debris flew in the air, while larger boulders and rock slides completely buried the entrance to the gorges. Any aliens still in pursuit were completely engulfed in the landslide. There was a brief glimpse of black fur, flailing limbs, and gleaming tusks, then they were gone, lost in the thick, billowing dust obscuring the gorge entrance and roiling out into the desert after the fleeing Chariot.

Unexpectedly, there was a loud explosion, and more black smoke engulfed the Chariot. A piercing howl came from the engine bay, accompanied by a metallic grinding. Coughing and gagging, Don instinctively pulled back on the track levers to slow the lurching juggernaut, but the vehicle abruptly came to a complete halt on its own, skidding a short distance on locked tracks. There was a loud crack, and the passenger compartment fell onto the drive section as overstressed supports finally gave way. Don was thrown forward, but his seatbelt kept him from crashing headfirst into the forward windshield. John, however, exposed as he was on the roof, had no seatbelt and was pitched over the observation bubble to tumble into the sand just ahead, the Benelli shotgun cartwheeling after him. The rattling howl from the Chariot stopped, replaced in the sudden silence by a gurgling hissing sound, and clouds of oily smoke continued to boil up around it, nearly hiding it from sight.

Don, his eyes stinging, quickly unstrapped and climbed unsteadily over the center sensor console. Grabbing a laser rifle, he scrambled over to the side and kicked open the entry door. It slammed loudly against the side of the Chariot, sheared one of its hinges that had already been weakened in the furious escape, and dropped to the ground, sagging against the side of the vehicle. Don tumbled out and fell to the ground. Shakily rolling to his feet, blinking and coughing in the billowing clouds of smoke that were just starting to dissipate, he raised the rifle to his cheek and aimed back the way they had come, anticipating a sudden rush of black-furred bodies.

But, they were alone in the desert. He looked back towards the ramparts only to discover the entrance into the gorge was gone, completely blocked by rubble over which towered a slowly dissipating cloud of dust. For a few moments, Don stood blearily, wondering when the aliens were going to come surging out into the desert after them. The only noise was the hissing, popping, and sparking sounds emanating from the sad remains of the Chariot.

"Doesn't look like they're coming out."

Don's head snapped around. A dusty, blackened figure was leaning weakly against the twisted frame of the Chariot.

"You look awful," was all Don could think of saying.

Professor Robinson wiped a sleeve across his face and managed a twisted grin. "I'm going to be sporting some serious bruises tomorrow, but, I think I survived without any broken bones." He touched his chest experimentally and got a thoughtful look in his eyes. "I think."

Will was leaning out of the Chariot's door, looking appalled at the now blocked entrance to the gorge. Pieces of glass glittered in his hair. "The Robot was in there!" he cried. "We have to go back and get him! What if he got caught in the landslide? What if the aliens got him?"

"Will, you better come on out," John ordered, noting the smoke still coming from underneath the Chariot. Will jumped down and joined the two men.

"But what about the Robot?" he insisted.

Don dropped to one knee, then, giving it up, plopped down wearily using the rifle as a crutch. "One thing at a time, Will," he groaned, rubbing his neck. "At least those aliens aren't chasing us anymore. Not yet, anyway."

Will turned towards his father, noting John's battered appearance. "Dad, are you all right?"

John glanced back at the gorge entrance several hundred feet away, still rubbing his ribs and grimacing slightly. "Yes, I am. Thanks for asking. As for the Robot, we'll try and figure that out, but we do have a few other problems now."

From his seated position in the sand, Don regarded the Professor balefully. "Boy, do we make a good looking pair of werewolf-slayers, or what?"

John looked at himself, then compared his appearance with Don's. Both of them were blackened and bloody, their clothes torn and stained.

John made an attempt to brush off some of the dust and sand. "Comes with the job, I guess."

"Maureen is going to have a fit if she see's us like this."

John shook his head. "You got that right." He looked ruefully at the Chariot, observing how it sagged on broken suspension supports. It had stopped smoking, although the remains of the smoke could be seen fading into the distance where the breeze was carrying it. Debris, an oil slick, and broken parts littered the desert from the back of the Chariot to the buried gorge entrance. "Looks like she's done for."

Don followed his gaze sadly. "Yeah."

After a respectful pause, as if in honor for the passing of a faithful friend, the Professor roused himself. "We better check the fuel drums for damage. I think it's safe enough to approach the Chariot now, and I want to know if we're leaking any deutronium."

"That would definitely not be good for our health," Don agreed, then climbed wearily to his feet.

"Will those aliens come out here and get us?" Will asked fearfully, staring at the blocked gorge mouth.

"I don't know," John said, following Will's gaze and scanning the cliff tops. "They haven't shown any inclination to come out here into the desert away from the protecting rocks, but we better be on guard." He handed the Benelli back to Don. "Here, take this and keep guard. I'll go check for deutronium leaks, and see what's still working inside the Chariot, if anything. Will, stay with Don…"

"But, Dad," Will insisted, "what about the Robot…?"

John held up a finger and repeated, more forcefully, "Stay here with Don. I need to check this out."

"All right."

While Don shouldered a laser rifle and hefted the Benelli, John entered the blackened wreck of the Chariot, obtained a hand meter, and began waving the probe around the fuel drums. John quickly discovered, much to his relief, that none of the deutronium drums had sustained any damage whatsoever and, by some miracle, were still structurally sound.

When he saw John waving him over, Don stuck his head inside the doorway, Will crowding next to him. "Anything left?"

"Just battery power," John answered, tinkering with the controls at driver's seat. "The fuel drums are sound, no leakage. Be thankful for small blessings. The engine's dead, drive train is busted, suspension has failed."

"Well," Don said dryly, leaning on the door threshold, avoiding some of the sharper edges. "Thanks for all the good news. Now what?"

John reached up and flipped on a series of switches, powering the battery busses, and turned on the radio. "I think I'll take Will's approach. Let's see if we can contact the Robot. Perhaps he survived and can tell us what's happening in there." At hearing this, Will crowded forward eagerly as John raised the microphone to his lips. "Robot! Come in, please." He adjusted a frequency control. "Robot, this is the Chariot. Can you hear me?"

The voice came in loud and clear, startling everyone. "Affirmative, Chariot."

"Yes!" Will threw his arms in the air. "He's all right! Ask him where he is…"

"Just a second, son," John interrupted impatiently, keying the microphone. "Robot, this is Professor Robinson. What's your location and status?"

"As to my status, power is down thirty-seven percent due to use of defensive systems, but otherwise I am fully functional. Regarding my whereabouts, I am currently seeking an alternate route to rejoin you."

"Where did the aliens go? Are you still under attack?"

"Negative. Alien life forms appeared fixated on the Chariot. Once you outpaced me, they surged after you and ignored me. As to their location now, I have no data. When I arrived at the scene of the avalanche that blocked the gorge entrance, they had already dispersed back into the hills." He paused. "It was very bloody there at the gorge entrance…I'm glad you did not have to witness the evidence of what the aliens did to their own injured. It was disturbingly barbaric."

Will shuddered; Don, who had climbed into the Chariot to hear better, placed a hand reassuringly on his shoulder.

John keyed the microphone. "We're just a short distance outside the canyon. Is there any way you can make it out to us?"

"Negative. As you can tell, the gorge entrance is completely blocked up to a height of thirty to forty feet. I am already exploring other avenues of exit, but it will take some time."

"All right. Do what you can. The Chariot is damaged beyond repair. We're stuck here for a while."

"That is unfortunate."

"Tell me about it," Don grumbled to himself.

"We'll have to conserve battery power," John continued. "It's all we have left. I'll check back with you in an hour. If you have anything significant to report before then, use the emergency beacon to signal us, and I'll power up the radio."

"Very well. Robot, out."

John replaced the microphone in its bracket, sat back, and folded his arms.

Don regarded him. "Thoughts, Professor Robinson?"

John shook his head, staring ahead through the cracked remains of the windshield at the flat expanse of the desert. "None right now, Major West. None right now."

There was silence among the three for a few moments. A slight breeze, coming through the open doorway and the shattered side of the Chariot, tousled their hair.

Finally, Will raised his head. "Can we hike back to the ship?"

When John said nothing, still lost in thought, Don answered, staring across the windswept wastes of the desert, "It's 60 miles or so back. It would take at least three long days of walking. And there's no way we can transport the fuel. I suppose we could come back for it with the ship. Try one more quick flight."

John continued to stroke his chin rhythmically between his fingers, caressing the stubble that had grown over the last very intense days. "Yes," he mused out loud, "the Jupiter would have to come here for the fuel since we can't get it back there. Think there was enough fuel left over to allow another short flight?"

Don nodded. "Yeah, I think so. We were practically on empty when we landed, but the Jupiter could cover the distance here in about ten minutes, so I'm guessing there should be enough for one more short flight. But I won't know until we get back and can check it out."

John looked over at him. "Then, Don, I'm afraid you are going to have to hike back to the ship and bring it back to us."

Don did not even blink. "Yep. That's what I figured, too. It's the only way."

John straightened. "Will and I will remain here and guard the Chariot and the fuel."

"I can't say I'm very happy about leaving you two alone in case the aliens make a run out of their mountain home into the desert."

John turned to look back along the track of the Chariot, where it emerged from the blocked entrance to the gorge. "Well, they haven't tried yet, and I haven't heard any howling from them. Perhaps it was indeed the drilling that set them off, and now they'll leave us alone."

"Besides, the Robot will be here soon!" Will said encouragingly.

Don nodded. "That's true, I suppose. As long as he finds his way out. Must be hard going for him rolling through this loose sand. Well," he said, straightening. "No use in delaying the inevitable. Guess I'd better hit the road."

"All right," John agreed. "Start getting together whatever gear you think you'll need. Water, food, firearms. Travel light…it's a long way for you over alien terrain, although it's mostly flat. I'll call the Jupiter and let Maureen know you're coming."

Don lifted the Benelli. "You want to keep this here?"

"Well…" John started uncertainly, glancing up at the pilot.

Don grinned. "I thought so. I'll take a laser rifle, and you keep the shotgun with you, in case of further alien encounters. That would be best. C'mon, Will," he said, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "Give me a hand. You can help me decide what I'll need on the road."

* * * *

Maureen had been listening intently to the whole story of the escape, the Chariot's destruction, and the proposed plan to have Don hike back to the Jupiter and fly it back. She patiently ignored Dr. Smith's urging to break in and explain their dire situation until John was finished.

"And that's all there is, darling. Don will be leaving right away."

Maureen lowered her head, closing her eyes tightly. Judy and Penny watched her worriedly. Dr. Smith was practically jumping out of his skin with impatience.

"Maureen? Did you copy?"

She raised her head, lifted the microphone, and pressed the transmit button, speaking slowly and deliberately. "John, I don't think Don will be able to make it back here."

Other than the ever-present static, there was no response for a few seconds from the other end. Finally, John's confused voice came, "Jupiter, say again? You don't think Don can make it? Why? What's the problem?"

Maureen took a deep breath and glanced outside. They had woken up this morning to find the Jupiter 2 an island in the middle of a very shallow sea. Small wavelets lapped around the landing struts to a height of about a foot. Further west, breaking waves could now be clearly seen as the implacably advancing water continued its eastward march, seemingly intent on covering the whole world—or, at least, that part of the world of most interest to the Robinson party. Everywhere there was water except where dunes raised themselves like islands from the shallow but rising tide. A noticeable current swirled around the landing struts of the Jupiter as if they were pilings to a dock or pier. Penny had dropped a piece of paper into the water, only to see it get carried off by the rapidly moving water. Maureen had been in the process of sitting down to call John to alert him to their situation when he called to explain theirs.

"John, we are completely surrounded by water."

More static. "Okay, darling. You have my undivided attention. Please tell me what's going on there."

She launched into a thorough description of their situation.

"So, unless there's an inflatable raft in the Chariot's stores," Maureen concluded, knowing that there was not one, "he just can't make it here. We're completely surrounded by the ocean or lake or whatever this is as far as the eye can see. It may only be a foot or so of water, but it seems to be rising all around us. I don't know how long it will be before the water is high enough to come in the lower hatch!"

Penny was nearby, sitting on the floor and playing with a pencil. She would set it on the floor and watch it roll back along the floor to her lap. "Mom, I think the deck angle is getting steeper."

Maureen keyed the microphone again. "And we seem to be developing a deck angle, like the ship may be sinking slightly on one side into the mud."

At the Chariot, John had waved insistently to Don when Maureen started her description, interrupting his work of inventorying gear for his planned hike. All three of them, Will included, were inside the Chariot, clustered once again around the radio, listening intently.

"They're sinking in the mud?" Will exclaimed in disbelief. "There's water everywhere? How could that have happened so fast? Why's it doing that?"

"There goes Plan A," Don said. "If I can't get there, and they can't get here, and Maureen thinks they could be under water soon…?"

John waved him off and keyed the mike. "Maureen, stand by for a moment."

Professor Robinson looked at Don. "All right, we have a problem, and it doesn't sound like we have a lot of time to talk about it. So, what do we do now? What is Plan B?"

"It definitely sounds like we can't hike there anymore," Don observed, looking off into the distance that was still, thankfully, dry as a bone. "We can't drive the Chariot there, because it's dead. And, it doesn't sound like they can stay there much longer."

"Then we have only one option left to us."

All of them looked at each other

Will spoke first. "The ship has to get out of there?"

John nodded. "Yes, it would seem so."

"But," Will continued, "there's no one who can fly it…" His voice trailed off uncertainly.

John looked up at Don. "Do you realize what I'm saying?"

Don stared at him, incredulous. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"I'm the only one qualified to pilot that ship!"

"That's true. But you're not there, and you can't get there. Do you think you can talk someone through it?"

Will was looking back and forth between the two men, finally grasping their meaning. His eyes were wide in astonishment as he exclaimed, "You want Mom to fly the Jupiter?"

John looked down at his son. "Someone has to. Do you have any other suggestions? I'd love to hear them." He glanced up at Don, also.

Don did not meet his eyes but was staring out the front window, his mind working feverishly.

"John?" Maureen's voice came from the speaker. "Are you still there?"

"Affirmative, Jupiter," John answered. "Please stand by." He lowered the microphone. "Someone has got to do it, and we are out of the ball game, for now! We can't leave the ship there, and we can't get to it ourselves. Someone other than Don is going to have to fly that ship out of there, and bring it here. And it's going to have to happen real soon."

There was a moment of silence, punctuated by the occasional blast of static from the open channel on the radio.

Don's eyes came back into focus as he turned back to the Professor. "Judy can do it."

Don's quiet assertion took John by surprise. "Judy? What makes you say that?"

"Judy?!" Will blurted in disbelief, but was silenced by a stern look from his father.

"Judy," Don repeated slowly. "She and I have spent many a night hanging out in front of the control consoles with nothing else to do, and I would talk about how I fly the ship. She always asked very informed questions, so I think she really absorbed what I was saying. I think she really understood. I think she could do it, if I talked her through it. Yes. She's the one."

After further thought, John brought the microphone up to his lips. "Maureen. You have to get the ship out of there. We can't come there; you are going to have to come to us. Put Judy on the microphone, but I want everyone there to listen carefully to this proposal."

John handed Don the microphone. Don took it and raised it to his lips. "Judy, are you there? This is Don."

It was a long exchange. Initially, the group at the Jupiter received the suggestion with the same astounded disbelief as Will had, no one more so than Judy herself. They discussed all sorts of concerns and objections. Piloting, navigation, fuel concerns, takeoff, landing and just managing a highly complex space-faring ship presented enough difficulties, but the potential for emergencies and real-time system failures loomed large in their initial considerations. The entire family discussed the situation over the radio for so long that Will had to go outside and start up their portable generator to recharge what was left of the Chariot's batteries.

In the end, it was decided that the dangers of remaining where they were outweighed the perils of flight, especially a short one. They finally came to the realization that the decision had already been made for them due to the lack of any other options. The Jupiter was being engulfed by the tidal waters, and John and Don had no way to reach them. There was a small possibility that the waters might reverse themselves and retreat, but that variable could not be relied on. It was clear that their only course of action was a hazardous, but necessary, one-time flight of the Jupiter, by an unqualified pilot.

"This is utterly ridiculous," Smith continued to fume, stomping about the flight deck behind Maureen. "I will not be a party to this suicidal plan that can only result in our total destruction! We should wait this out…the waters will recede, you'll see! Or, we can make a raft and float out to them, pick up the Major, and bring him back here! That would be a far more sensible plan than West's harebrained scheme."

"Dr. Smith, please," Maureen argued. "You can see what's happening outside. The water could be up to lower hatch within a day or less! Would you rather drown here?"

"Rubbish!" Smith protested, waving towards the viewport. "Look, the water is starting to withdraw as we speak!" He turned and followed Judy, who had wandered over to the Jupiter's helm control and was pensively regarding the complex panel. "Now, my dear. Why don't you suggest to your wonderfully impulsive boyfriend that _he_ could build a raft that would bring him safely to us! You can do that, can't you? Or, like I said, we'll build the raft, whatever!" He stared wildly around. "Well? Doesn't anyone have anything to say? Can't we build a raft?"

Judy stood tensely, lost in thought. As if on cue, Penny, who had gone below during all the arguing, shouted up from within the ladder well from the lower deck. "Hey, Mom! The water's up another foot! The current washing around the landing struts seems stronger! It's actually bubbling around the struts!"

The ship gave a slight shudder, hardly more than the merest of shifts, but it immediately got everyone's attention.

Maureen walked over and laid a hand on Judy's shoulder, gazing at her with concern. "Well, Judy? How do you feel about trying this?"

Judy's brow was furrowed in concentration. When she spoke, it was stiffly. "If Don thinks I can do it, I'll try."

Maureen carefully took the measure of her daughter, liked what she saw, and then raised the microphone to her lips. "All right, Don. Judy says she'll do it, but the water is rising faster than ever. If we're going to do this, we'd better get to it now."

After a moment, Don's voice came over the speakers, clearly for once, with no static, as if he was in the very room with them. "Judy? This is Don. Are you ready for this?"

Maureen offered the microphone to Judy. She took it and keyed the transmit button. "Yes," she said with more conviction than she felt.

"All right then. Here's what we're going to have to do…"

22


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five – Judy Robinson: Jupiter Pilot

Don's instructions came at a measured rate based on Judy's ability to comprehend them. They decided they had to use as much automation as the ship was capable of providing. To that end, Don familiarized Judy with the atmospheric flight control unit on the main console, explaining to her about the three knobs that would control the flight through the autopilot. From left to right, there was a speed knob, a heading knob, and an altitude knob. Judy would control the flight by dialing in desired settings, and the coupled autopilot would direct the ship in forward speed, heading, and altitude above the ground. Judy would make all flight inputs via these three knobs, because Don felt it too much to instruct her in the manual control of the ship through the control stick and thrust levers. However, he did give her a brief overview of what it would take to control the ship manually in case of emergencies. Judy listened diligently while writing copious notes, knowing she had the responsibility for four of their lives, including hers!

The next problem was navigation: how would Judy direct the ship to their location? Will solved that with a basic radio direction-finding setup. They would transmit a radio signal from the Chariot, and all Judy would have to do would be to steer the Jupiter--through the autopilot--so that the reception needle on the radio receiver remained centered.

But the biggest concern for them was how to handle any emergencies that might come up. During the last launch, they had engine overheating and vibrations, and several other small adjustments that both the Professor and Don had to make together. But, with Judy piloting, any anomaly could be instantly life-threatening, and Don would have to assist her via long-distance radio link, an "iffy" way to handle things, in his own words. That these problems would come up was certain; the Jupiter was a well engineered but thoroughly harassed vessel that had been subjected to crash landings, meteor storms, electrical fires, explosions, and other situations that had put a lot of wear and tear on it. The fact that it had sat marooned for so long on an alien world did not do it much good, either.

In the end, again, there was really no other alternative. The waters were rising fast on the Jupiter. The level of the flood was only a foot or two below the circular engine pod on the belly of the ship. They had no idea what would happen to the ship if the water rose enough to float it. Regardless, that could not be a very desirable state of affairs.

Even Dr. Smith could see this as he looked through the main viewport at the water that had engulfed the ship, but he was still argumentative. "This is utterly absurd," he muttered under his breath. "I'm in the hands of a blonde…"

"Don't say it, Dr. Smith!" Judy warned dangerously from the pilot station nearby. She was not in the best of moods since she was feeling the immense responsibility that was now thrust upon her, and her usual perky pleasantness was lost under a veil of irritability and worry. Her fuse was very short, indeed.

He turned to her, smiling ingratiatingly. "I merely was intending to say that I have immense confidence in your ability to fly this spaceship safely, despite your, shall we say, lack of credentials." He hastened obsequiously on after receiving a blacker look from Judy. "After all, this will be another step closer to completing our journey back to Earth, and so, I am fully behind you, my dear!"

"Places, everyone," Maureen said, taking the copilot seat next to Judy and donning a headset with a boom microphone for radio communications. "We need to get this show on the road. Penny, you're on that radio needle, right?"

Penny was seated in front of the communications panel to the right of the main viewport. She swiveled towards her mother and pointed at a dial. "Yes, Mom. The signal is still coming in strong. We'll have to turn a little to the left after takeoff, see?"

Maureen leaned back to have a look. "That looks correct." She turned to the left, where Dr. Smith was sitting in front of a complex bank of instruments and switches to the left of the pilot stations. "And Dr. Smith, you know which gages to watch…?"

"Too many buttons and switches," he grumbled, squinting at the intricate engineering control panel. He held up a hand as Maureen was about to speak. "Yes, yes," he said impatiently, thrusting a long, thin finger at fuel level indicators on the panel. "I will be monitoring the fuel levels on these two gages right here."

"And you'll tell us when they reach critical levels?"

He looked vaguely affronted. "Never fear, Smith is here. I will report the instant that low levels are reached."

Maureen's lips turned upwards in the faintest of smiles that relieved the lines of tension on her forehead. "Well, they're already at low levels. Just sing out when they reach the red area." She keyed the transmit button on the audio control panel next to the flight panel. "John, I think we're ready."

Back at the wreck site of the Chariot, John and Don were seated around the front console of the Chariot. Will was outside, turning the hand generator on the non-directional beacon that was sending out the homing signal.

West glanced up at John, who nodded in agreement. "All right," John said. "Let's get them in the air."

"Okay, Maureen," Don spoke into the microphone. "Here we go: the 'Power-up Checklist' first. Step one, check the circuit breakers above the engineering panel…"

For the next thirty minutes, West called out instructions to the women on the Jupiter. Maureen worked the radio and relayed to Judy, who actually executed the checklists, switch positions, and system power-ups. It was a complicated procedure, and Don was necessarily skipping a number of checks in the interests of time and to keep it as simple as possible.

Finally, the Jupiter was rumbling to the sound of her engine. The lights on the pod under the ship's belly were revolving and flashing brightly, and the bubble-top on the roof was keeping the time in sequence. The water underneath the ship was blowing outwards as the thrust from the idling engine blew wavelets away from the ship in concentric circles.

Maureen looked up, startled, from the pilot console as the ship lurched, as if from some blow. She saw rivulets of water cascading down the viewport, like someone had just thrown a bucketful of water over the window. "What was that?"

"Look!" Smith cried, pointing out the viewport.

A large wave had struck the ship from behind, washed partly over it, and was now marching away towards the east. They could see the tumbling back of the wave as it rolled away, leaving a trail of bubbling foam and spray.

"That couldn't have been good," Penny observed from the radio station.

"Mother, we've got to get out of here!" Judy declared through clenched teeth as she concentrated on the pilot panel. "Tell Don he needs to hurry it up!"

"Don," Maureen transmitted. "We just had a wave come by that practically picked us up!"

Alarmed, John took the microphone from Don. "Breakers?! Are you all right?"

"Yes," came the reply, "but we had water over the top of the ship. It's impossible to tell, but there could be more waves coming; we just can't see them!"

Don took the microphone back. "It's all right, Maureen. If the idle parameters are all in the green and Judy finished the pre-launch checklist, you're about ready to go."

"Yes, looks good. We're all finished here, waiting for your word."

West looked significantly at the professor, took a breath, then keyed the microphone, "All right. Here we go. Judy, advance the thrust levers to the seventy percent detent. You don't have to watch the gages, just push them until you feel them click into place. "

Maureen laid a hand on Judy's shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, dear," she whispered encouragingly.

Judy looked at the thrust lever handles, laid a hand on them, paused, then slowly advanced them. The ship shuddered noticeably as the engine thrust increased. Judy stopped moving the thrust levers midway when she heard an abrupt thump that sounded from deep inside the ship.

"What was that?" Judy asked, looking at the confusing array of dials and indicators. "There was a noise…or something…"

After a quick glance over the complex array of gages and lights, none of which had indicated any problem (as far as she could see), Maureen put her hand gently on top of Judy's so that they were both on the thrust levers. Her voice was just loud enough over the engine noise, but she exuded confidence. "Keep going, dear. You're doing fine. It was nothing."

Judy glanced at her gratefully, then, together, they pushed the thrust levers to the seventy percent detent. Judy felt the levers click into place. The engine accelerated, then stabilized. Both of them were looking everywhere for anything that might be wrong; thankfully, so far, there were no alarms, sirens, or mysteriously flashing warning lights. The unexplained thump never repeated itself.

"Seventy percent," Maureen transmitted. "Everything looks good. Temperature stable in the green at nine-fifty, the number two vent is still wide open."

"Advance to full and tell Judy to pull back about one-quarter stick."

They clicked the thrust levers to the forward stop and Judy gingerly pulled the control stick aft. Once more, the ship thundered and shook to the power of full thrust, and once more, everyone looked outside, anticipating their rise from the ground.

Nothing happened. The Jupiter sat vibrating and shaking furiously in the water, but it remained stubbornly planet-bound. Judy was gripping the thrust levers tightly, her knuckles turning white. Ranks of ragged waves and clouds of spray came from under the ship as the engine fought to lift the vessel from the grip of the mud.

"Don, nothing is happening!" Maureen called into the microphone. "We're not moving! Temperature is rising to eleven-fifty!"

In the Chariot, Don and the Professor looked at one another. "They should be moving!" Don said, instantly concerned.

John swiveled towards Don. "It's gotta be the mud! What do you think?"

"That's it!" Don agreed eagerly. "Must be the suction! If they sank into the wet sand…" He quickly brought the microphone to his lips. "We think you're stuck in the soft mud. Move the stick forward and back, about a quarter inch either side of neutral. That should rock you out."

Judy pushed the stick forward. They could feel the ship lean forward, but that was all.

A yellow light came on in front of Dr. Smith, who squawked loudly in surprise. "What is this? What is this? We're going to blow up!"

Maureen leaned back to look, then spoke into the microphone. "We have an unsecure outside access panel. It's labeled 'hydraulics bay'."

"Forget it," Don assured her. "It must have worked loose. The mechanical over-center locks should keep it shut. Just keep rocking the ship."

Judy pulled the stick back, and the ship seemed to lean backward slightly. "It's not working," she yelled in a panic.

"We're still stuck," Maureen called.

"Do it faster!" came Don's reply. "You have to break the suction. There should be plenty of power to do it!"

Judy began moving the stick forward and aft more quickly. The ship leaned back and forth in time with her movements. Beads of sweat appeared on Judy's forehead as she worked the stick with her right hand, her left hand in a death grip on the thrust levers that were still pushed hard against the stop. She made bigger fore and aft movements with the stick, and began pushing and pulling it faster, adding some random lateral movements in as well. The ship leaned and pitched, rolled and plunged like a dinosaur caught in the tar pits. Water continued to be driven from beneath the vessel in clouds of spray and mist as the engine, now at full power, strove to lift the Jupiter into the sky.

"Come on, come on!" Judy muttered through gritted teeth, willing the ship to break free.

Suddenly, one of the three landing pads towards the back of the ship heaved up in a great seething gout of mud and water. The ship pitched forward drunkenly, pivoting around the two forward struts, and everyone screamed. Judy instinctively yanked full aft on the stick, which caused the Jupiter to slam back, plunging the rear strut back into the water with a stupendous splash but resulting in the two remaining struts exploding up out of the water. Everyone was tossed around inside as Judy cried out and pushed the stick full forward. Don's voice was coming from the speakers, but no one was listening as they held on against the wildly bucking ship. With the drive from the momentum and the thrust from the engine, the ship abruptly surged forward and up out of the water like a drunken helicopter, finally breaking the suction from the mud, and thundered up into the air. The viewport was filled with a frighteningly close-up view of the surface of the water as the Jupiter nosed over and started descending towards it, but Judy again instinctively yanked the stick back once more. Instantly, they were thrown forward in their seats as the ship rotated backwards, and the artificial gravity compensators strained to balance the conflicting demands. The ship's nose came up and the Jupiter clawed its way into the cloudy sky, wobbling unsteadily as if fatigued from its struggle to get airborne, water and mud pouring from the landing pads.

"We're airborne!" Maureen shouted into the microphone over the engine noise, finally breaking into Don's unheeded transmission.

"Good job! Retract struts!" Don called over the radio.

Maureen reached over and threw up a lever. "Struts retracting…transit lights out!"

"Engage autopilot and dial altitude to ten thousand feet!"

Maureen glanced at Judy. "Ready?"

Judy could only nod wordlessly, still wrestling with the control stick as the Jupiter careened madly towards the cloud cover, barely under command. The vessel rolled crazily as she over-controlled, but, thankfully, the overall vector was still upward and away from the water-covered ground.

Maureen reached up to the flight control unit and pressed a button. A green internal light illuminated on the button, and the ship immediately stabilized into a steady climb straight up. There was a loud click as the control stick was locked in the neutral position. Judy's hands were shaking on the controls and she was staring fixedly out through the viewport as if unable to believe they were in the air.

"It's okay, Judy," Maureen soothed. "You did it! The autopilot is flying now! You can release the controls! Let go, now…"

As if in a trance, Judy dully looked down at her hands as if they were part of the ship, and not part of her body. She had to make a concerted effort to relax her death-grip on the thrust levers and control stick, finally releasing them. She sank back in the pilot seat and threw her hands over her face, breathing heavily.

"Wow!" Penny exclaimed to no one in particular, watching her sister admiringly.

Maureen reached over and dialed in a heading that coincided with the bearing to the Chariot, and then rolled ten thousand feet on the altitude selector. The Jupiter was already in the thick overcast, and nothing could be seen outside the main viewport. After selecting four hundred knots on the speed, Maureen sat back and shakily raised the microphone to her lips.

"Chariot, this is the Jupiter. We're on our way."

* * * *

Thirty minutes later, the Jupiter was nearing the Chariot's location and the next most critical time: landing. John was standing outside looking up at the cloud cover while Don manned the radio. Will also was watching the skies, cranking steadily on the portable generator.

"Jupiter, we can hear you now," Don transmitted. "We need to get you below the clouds for the final approach. Turn the altitude knob to three thousand feet, and set forward speed to zero."

"Set three thousand and take the speed to zero knots," Maureen repeated to Judy, who dutifully dialed the settings into the flight control unit.

As the ship descended, a loud klaxon sounded, causing the entire crew to jump. "Don!" Maureen called. "There's an alarm going off…"

Don sat up in the Chariot. "Alarm? Where's it coming from? Shut it off with the emergency cancel button and check the master caution panel just to the left of the radar control unit. Any lights on?"

Maureen scanned the panel after silencing the klaxon. "No, there's nothing there. Wait a minute! There is one light on…it says 'Fuel'!"

"Check the fuel level on the engineering panel…just the totalizer, not the individual tanks."

"Dr. Smith," Maureen called. "What is the fuel reading now? Dr. Smith!"

Smith started convulsively, "What? What? What do you want?"

"The fuel!" Maureen cried in exasperation. "Don wants to know what the fuel level is…the gage I told you to watch! Didn't you hear that alarm?"

Dr. Smith wide eyes skipped back and forth over the engineering panel; he saw nothing but a mass of gages, switches, levers, and buttons. "Fuel level? Totalizer? That's this gage…no, this one…no, that one there just to the left of that switch." He finally threw up his hands. "Madam, I cannot be expected to watch all these ridiculous gages all the time."

Nearly out of patience, Maureen rose and leaned over his shoulder to look, muttering something uncharacteristic under her breath that caused even Dr. Smith to glance in dismay up at her. Her face turned ashen.

"Don, the fuel totalizer shows empty! It says zero total fuel!"

John was leaning in through the Chariot's door and heard the last transmission. "Empty? That can't be!"

West thought furiously for a few moments, then said, "They must have used more fuel rocking the ship out of the mud than we expected, or the amount we thought she had wasn't accurate. Maureen," he called into the radio. "You need to switch over to the reserve fuel cell. There's a red striped T-handle right next to the fuel totalizer. You need to pull it out, then twist it counter-clockwise, quickly!"

Maureen unstrapped and got up, moving to the engineering panel, her eyes searching the various switches and knobs.

"There it is!" Dr. Smith cried out, pointing at a red striped T-handle, under which was printed "Emergency Reserve". Maureen grabbed it, pulled and turned it as instructed, then stepped back. The ship continued descending through the murk towards the planet's surface, but nothing else appeared to happen.

She surged back into the copilot's seat and grabbed the microphone. "Don, I did it," she transmitted. "Should we get some kind of indication that it worked?"

"Did the fuel low light go out?"

"No, it's still on."

West looked at Professor Robinson. When he spoke, it was with grave concern in his voice. "John, that light should have gone out. Something's wrong, maybe a circuit breaker is out or a valve is stuck. This is not good; we need to get them on the ground! They can't have more than a few minutes of flying time left before fuel starvation shuts the reactor down!"

"There they are!" Will yelled from outside, pointing straight upwards and causing both men to tilt their heads back

For a moment, all they could see was a circulating glow coming from within the clouds. Then, suddenly, the Jupiter materialized below the cloud base almost on top of them and was sinking steadily downwards, directly towards the wrecked Chariot.

Don swore as he keyed the microphone. "Judy, dial in twenty knots of forward speed! You're right on top of us!"

Judy selected twenty knots, and the ship eased forward while continuing its descent.

"That's better, you're clear," Don said, relieved. "Reset speed to zero and lower the landing struts. Hit the landing sequencer and let the autopilot take it down."

He watched the struts lower as the ship continued its steady descent. "Is the sequencer tied in?"

Judy had pushed a button and was rewarded with a green indicator on the autopilot panel. "Tell him the sequencer is engaged."

"The sequencer is working," Maureen relayed. "What about the fuel?"

"Don't worry about that now," Don equivocated. "You'll be on the ground in another minute."

"Okay."

The Jupiter continued its descent, but the engine, rather than making a steady roar, started to pulsate unsteadily.

Judy was looking all over the panel. "What's wrong?"

John was watching outside and shouted, "Don, I think they're losing fuel pressure!"

Don mashed the microphone button. "Judy, disconnect the sequencer. It's taking too long and you're running out of fuel! You'll need to let the autopilot do an accelerated touchdown without the sequencing!"

Judy scanned several gages that were beginning to fluctuate unsteadily. "I heard that. I'm disengaging the sequencer…"

There were three loud chimes, and a master caution light illuminated over the pilot console.

"Autopilot has disengaged, too!" Maureen called, pointing. "That wasn't supposed to happen! Don, the autopilot kicked off along with the sequencer!"

Don scrambled to open observation bubble of the Chariot, extending the microphone to its longest length. He stared fixedly upwards at the spaceship wobbling overhead. "You're on manual!" he transmitted stridently. "Judy, you've got the ship! I don't know why, but there's no time to re-engage the autopilot. Get on the control stick and thrust levers! Power back to fifty percent and watch the vertical velocity indicator! Keep it around two hundred feet per minute!"

"Oh my God!" Judy cried, reaching forward and grabbing the stick in one hand and the thrust levers in the other.

She bumped the stick forward as she snatched at it, and the ship nosed down. Instantly, the viewport was filled with ground that was rapidly approaching. The family had a brief view of the wrecked Chariot and three white faces staring up at them before she pulled back, and the vessel rotated aft. The viewport filled with nothing but cloud-filled sky. She pushed forward, and the world spun underneath them again, throwing everyone backwards. Smith wailed loudly from the engineering panel; Penny screamed in pure terror.

"You're over-controlling into a pilot-induced oscillation!" Don called, trying desperately to keep his voice steady, his body thrust stiffly out the observation hatch. "Release the stick…let it center on its own, that's it. Now use small pressures on it to correct the nose track. Watch that vertical velocity…you're still descending too fast! Use a little back stick to reduce your descent rate. Pressures, Judy, not stick movements! Power back to fifty percent!"

Nearly overwhelmed with the rapid-fire instructions, Judy was struggling both with her self-control as well as more than two hundred tons of unstable, howling metal. "Mom," Judy called, panic giving an edge to her voice. "Tell me altitude and vertical velocity; I can't watch them."

"Three hundred feet, vertical velocity over four hundred feet per minute," Maureen read. "Countdown clock is showing fifty seconds to touchdown."

Judy eased the stick back and reduced engine power. The Jupiter tilted sideways to the right, and Judy over-controlled to the left, tossing everyone around.

"Easy, easy," she muttered to herself, pointedly ignoring the blast of frenzied radio instructions that this maneuver elicited from West. She continued non-stop chatter to herself. "Center the stick; let it stabilize, use pressure, not stick movements, center the stick, aft pressure to reduce descent rate, stabilize…"

"That's it!" Don yelled excitedly despite himself, watching the descending spaceship settle. "You're flying it! Small corrections, easy pressure on the stick…"

The engine surged, then seemed to miss and began to wind down.

"NO!" Don screamed, practically swallowing the microphone. "Keep power at fifty! Don't reduce engine thrust! You're still too high!"

"That wasn't me!" Judy cried, her voice rising hysterically. "I didn't move the thrust lever!"

The ship's descent rate increased. "Two hundred feet, vertical velocity eight hundred feet per minute and increasing!" Maureen called out.

Don was saying something over the radio, but Judy was no longer listening. She jammed the thrust levers to the full-power stop and hauled back on the stick. The engine spluttered, then roared back to full thrust, but an alarm began braying. Maureen savagely punched the emergency cancel button again and looked at the master caution panel. Underneath the fuel low light was another flashing red light: the black letters on the light read "Zero Fuel Sensed". Below that light, another light began ominously flashing; it read: "Reactor Auto-Shutdown". The entire master caution panel began lighting up faster than Maureen could keep up with it.

She tore her eyes away and ignored caution lights that were coming on one after another, instead saying in as even a tone as she could muster, "One hundred feet, vertical velocity is down to three hundred feet per minute."

In her target-fixated concentration, Judy was watching the gages herself and adjusting thrust lever and stick movements, all her attention focused on the panel in front of her. She was aware she should be looking outside also, but she could not tear her eyes away from the instruments.

Engine noise dropped off, and more warning lights illuminated on the panel in front of her. Judy pulled the thrust levers back, then again rammed them to the full-power stop, but the engine did not respond and continued to wind down past idle, shutting itself down. More alarms began braying; the engineering panel lit up like a Christmas tree, and the ship dropped towards the ground.

Horrified, Judy looked up to see the planet's surface rushing up towards them. "Everyone hang on!" she screamed over the klaxons as she slammed herself back against the acceleration cushion.

The Jupiter, now powerless, fell the last one hundred feet, dropping towards the ground. John and Will stared helplessly at the plummeting vessel; Don was holding the microphone to his open mouth, but no words were coming out. They were all frozen like statues, powerless to assist, watching as the Jupiter 2 fell in seeming slow motion, the roar from the engine dwindling to silence.

With a thunderous crash that could be felt through the ground, the ship hit. The landing struts bent nearly horizontal as they absorbed the crushing impact and the belly of the ship nearly touched the ground. Sand erupted into the air, partially obscuring the ship in a cloud of dust. The Jupiter sprang back up into the air about ten feet as the landing dampeners released the absorbed energy, and the ship heaved sideways like a drunken sailor. It paused in mid-air, then came crashing down again, hit one strut, abruptly rotated and smashed the other two struts into the desert sand. Silence descended once again over the desert; sand and dust swirled and began settling.

After a few heart-pounding moments, the two men abruptly came out of their paralysis, and, with shouts, began sprinting towards the ship. Will sprang up off the ground, tossed the hand generator onto the ground and ran after them. It was only about one hundred feet away, and they covered the distance rapidly. Professor Robinson arrived first and surged up the access stairs on the left-hand landing strut, taking the steps three at a time. He punched the door entry button to the lower hatch, waiting impatiently as the locks cycled and the door slid slowly open. He squeezed through the still opening door and plunged inside, followed closely by Will. Major West took a moment to look briefly at the Jupiter's underside, saw no obvious damage, and then ran up the ladder as well.

They found Penny, Maureen, Judy, and Dr. Smith still sitting in their seats, looking around at each other, thunderstruck and speechless. The interior of the ship was dark and quiet. A few scattered telltale lights were illuminated on the forward panel, and only the emergency overhead bulbs were on.

"Darling!" John ran up and knelt next to Maureen. "Are you all right?"

Maureen Robinson looked dumbfounded into her husband's eyes. "Yes, yes, I think so…"

Don came up behind Judy and spun her seat around so she faced him. "You did it!" he cried, beaming. "You flew the Jupiter!"

He leaned down and embraced a completely shaken Judy in a bear hug, bringing a startled smile to her face. He drew back, looked at her, and landed a passionate kiss squarely on her lips. Her eyes went wide in surprise. John laughed, and the tension was broken.

Dr. Smith rose from his seat, visibly shaking. "Really! Such a display. And I believe my back is broken! I have whiplash! My heart is palpitating! Doesn't anyone care? Well? Oh, dear!"

Even Don could not help grinning at Smith's posturing.

"I'm gonna check the ship's data recorder," Will proclaimed, heading for the engineering panel, "to see if anything got over-stressed. What a landing! I didn't think the ship would bounce like that!"

"Well done, Judy," John smiled down at his daughter once Don released her.

But Judy was watching Will head for the data recorder panel, a worried look passing across her face. "But what if I overstressed the ship? I might have broken it!"

"I looked outside and didn't see anything," Don reassured her with a shoulder squeeze. "She's a tough ship. A little bounce like that shouldn't have hurt her. Besides, you know what they say about good landings!"

Judy smiled gratefully. "I know. A good landing is one you can walk away from."

"And you're all still walking!" Don noted lightheartedly.

"And a great landing is one where you can use the ship again!" Will added absently from the computer console where he was bringing up flight data recorder information. Judy looked slightly crestfallen.

"I'm sure the Jupiter is fine," Don quickly assured her, somewhat annoyed at Will.

Penny had unstrapped and was running towards the ladder to the lower deck. "I'm gonna write about this in my diary! Too cool!"

"If this mutual admiration society is finished congratulating itself," Smith grumbled, straightening his shirt and massaging his neck, "I am going to find something to eat in the galley. My stomach craves something to soothe it after being bounced around like a rubber ball!" He turned and stalked off shakily towards the elevator. "I have been permanently crippled," he muttered to himself while the Robinsons grinned at his retreating form.

Don was shaking his head, flipping some switches on the helm control with no response. "The engine has shut down due to fuel starvation. We're on emergency battery power. Damn, we cut this one close."

John nodded. "Let's get some deutronium into the number five fuel cell and get normal power back. And then," he looked at Maureen, "do you think you two space pilots can get us some lunch?"

Maureen's eyes flashed dangerously. She cocked her head in aggravation and gave her dirty, bloodied, torn husband a glaring inspection from head to toe. "Lunch? After all we've been through…?" John opened his mouth to respond, but she raised a warning finger. "No food until you clean up." With a straight face, she leaned forward. "You two look like shit."

Everyone froze. John's jaw dropped. Don turned away from the helm and goggled at Maureen. "_What_ did you just say?"

Then, he exploded in loud, appreciative laughter, lifting his right hand in a thumb's up sign.

Maureen grinned.

19


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note to my Loyal Readers: the saga continues with Chapter Six. In this, I explore another side to the multi-faceted Dr. Smith, and re-introduce an old antagonist, whom I think you'll enjoy hearing from again. Onward!

Chapter Six – Medical Crisis

After lunch, Major West and Will pored over the data from the flight recorder. They discovered that, in spite of the violence of the Jupiter's near crash landing, no critical engineering parameters had been exceeded. There were many loosened panels, popped access doors, a number of overloaded circuits, and some breakage in the galley, but nothing that could not be patched up with a minimum of fuss. Don carried on for some time about his admiration for the designers of the Jupiter, striding about the ship and slapping bulwarks and panels, loudly proclaiming the ship to be still space-worthy. Judy was considerably relieved that her actions had not stranded them forever on this forsaken world, and she graciously accepted the congratulations from everyone in the family as to her dramatic and heroic debut as a space pilot. Additionally, after Don and the Professor fueled the ship with a single drum of their newly processed deutronium, they were able to fire up the reactor once more, and full electrical power and heat was returned to the redoubtable vessel.

Also, another member of their intrepid band had finally showed up. Will was shocked but delighted when he emerged from the spaceship after lunch to find the Robot standing nonchalantly near one of the landing struts. The Robot had finally found his way out of the mountains and reached them by homing in on the same signal Will was putting out for the Jupiter. Exhibiting a curiously subtle sense of humor, undoubtedly learned while associating with his human friends, he had not announced his presence, but had simply rolled to a stop near one of the landing struts and stood patiently, waiting for someone to appear and notice him. He seemed to relish the effect it would produce, and he was not disappointed. Will gushed all over him, congratulating him on his safe return, then went to alert the family, who also emerged and welcomed him warmly back into the fold. Afterwards, Will had immediately hauled out the charger, plugged the Robot in, and began providing a much needed recharge to the remarkable machine. He also went to work wiping the Robot down with a dry towel, since the automaton was covered with a significant layer of dust and sand accumulated during his travels.

"What can you tell us about the aliens?" John asked, getting down to business as the remainder of the family stood in a semicircle around the Robot in the shade of the ship.

"The aliens have dispersed into the mountains," the Robot reported. "I had no further contact with them during my search for a way out of the complex gorges, and they do not register on my limited sensor range."

Professor Robinson nodded in relief, staring at the rock walls that were still uncomfortably close to them. "Good. We won't have to deal with them any longer, at least for now. How much longer will you need to charge? I need your help in transporting the fuel drums from the Chariot to the ship."

"Another hour should see me at one hundred percent."

"All right," John said, looking meaningfully at West, "before we do anything else, let's get the ship's force field generator set up and ready for use, just in case."

"Makes sense to me," Don agreed. He strode off to the back of the ship. "I'll start pulling it out of the storage compartment."

"I have a further report on aliens," the Robot interjected.

Professor Robinson had been turning away when he stopped at the Robot's statement. "Go ahead. What further information do you have?"

The Robot's bubble top rose. "The creatures that attacked us are out of my range. However, during my efforts to find an exit, my sensors received faint indications of another alien life-form in the mountainous regions further south."

John frowned. "I'm a little confused, here. _Another_ alien? Singular?"

"Affirmative. A single alien signature of considerable proportions unrelated to the wolf-like creatures that attacked us. Readings are analogous to past readings of alien life-forms previously encountered on this planet."

"Something we've seen before?" Will asked, pausing in his effort to polish up the Robot's barrel-shaped torso. "What was it?"

The Robot seemed to hesitate, swinging his light diodes towards the boy. "Readings were faint and inconclusive. However, I must repeat that it appeared to be a very _large_ alien reading."

The Professor folded his arms. "Okay. You detected something out there, something other than those werewolf things that attacked us. A possible indication, maybe spurious, maybe not." He glanced at West, who had stopped a little distance away to listen to the exchange. "I want that force field unpacked and ready to go right now."

"I couldn't agree more!" West exclaimed, already turning back to the Jupiter. "Hey, Will, Penny! Come on, you guys, come give me a hand. Smith! You, too!"

Dr. Smith had already set up a chair under the shadow of the ship and was lounging comfortably thereon. "I would be delighted, Major!" he said. "However, my back is still in a very delicate condition after the manhandling it received during that last flight. I really am exhausted and must convalesce quietly before any exertion…" He swept a pair of sunglasses onto his face and leaned back in the seat.

Don was bristling up like a porcupine and took a step towards him when Penny and Will, looking at each other knowingly, both grabbed his hands. "Come on, Don!" Penny called, laughing, pulling him towards the back of the ship. "We'll help you! Let Dr. Smith rest."

"Yeah, Don!" Will agreed eagerly. "We can do it!"

Backing away reluctantly and growling like a bear, Don sent one more lethal look towards the doctor, who paid him no heed, and turned and allowed himself to be pulled away by the kids.

In a short time, they had lowered the force field generator from the aft cargo bay. It looked like a gun mounted on a square platform on wheels. It could be swiveled a full 360 degrees and would put out an electromagnetic field that repulsed all known forms of energy and matter up to a nominal distance of between thirty and forty feet. The three of them pushed the unit to the front of the Jupiter, setting it up just beyond the overhanging edge of the ship so the protective energy umbrella would encompass the entire spacecraft. Once it was powered up, Don, standing outside the periphery of the energized field, tested it by throwing rocks into it, watching with satisfaction as the stones exploded violently upon contact with the invisible electrical barrier. After that, he instructed Will, who was manipulating the controls, to shut the unit down. While it was desirable to have the unit functioning at all times, it was not realistic because the Chariot was far outside the range of the force field, and they had to begin the laborious process of hauling the deutronium drums back to the ship. Penny was given the duty to stand by the force field generator, ready to turn it on at the slightest hint of danger. She set a chair up next to the generator, pulled out some books, and got comfortable.

After this task was completed, Will and Professor Robinson fashioned a motorized cart out of spare parts and, with the fully charged Robot powering the unit, used it to start trundling the drums of deutronium from the Chariot to the ship. Meanwhile, Don lowered the primary refueling hose from a panel under the belly of the ship, screwed the intake hose to an adapter on the top of each drum as it arrived, and began pumping the semi-gaseous fuel into the reactor core deep within the shielded recesses of the engine.

Always looking for opportunities to needle his foe, Don ordered a loudly complaining Dr. Smith to monitor the intake pressure at the fuel panel inside the ship. However, in a short time, Smith convinced Judy to take over the duty while he concentrated on what he considered more pressing matters: the continuation of his memoirs. He reclined on the flight deck, speaking softly into the microphone of his recorder on his impressions of the psychological "oddities" of the castaway family preparing to return to Earth. He felt he needed to catch up since their return to Earth was imminent and his revealing book, when published, would undoubtedly be a best-seller that would make him rich.

"Priorities, my dear!" Smith explained once Judy had agreed to watch the fuel panel. "I must have my priorities! This work simply will not wait."

"Of course, Dr. Smith," Judy said, rolling her eyes. "I understand. I'll keep an eye on the refueling operation for you."

"Thank you, my child, you are very understanding!" Smith continued happily. "I am intending to write a very complimentary chapter about you in my book. Keep up the good work, now!"

It was now evening. By elevator and ladder, everyone was heading down to the galley for dinner. Maureen, Judy, and Penny were setting the table. As usual, Dr. Smith was the first to seat himself.

"Well!" he proclaimed, settling himself comfortably. "And what gourmet feast do you have in store for us this evening, madam? It has been a remarkable day, one that requires a remarkable repast." As he finished, he appeared mildly annoyed at himself.

Maureen could not help but tease him a little, passing plates around the table. "That was a _remarkable_ bit of alliteration, Dr. Smith. Well done. However, with regards to our meal, we just have our usual processed foods, with vegetables we've stored away from the garden."

Smith quickly recovered his poise. "Really, madam, you must not sell yourself short! I look forward to mealtimes with great gusto, knowing your considerable prowess in the kitchen! In fact, I would take it as a great indulgence if, once we return to Earth, I might see you in action in a real kitchen, and have access to the preparation of some real food!"

"Always thinking with your stomach, eh, Smith?" West muttered acerbically, taking his seat at the table.

"Dining should always be one of the most agreeable and sought after experiences in life," Dr. Smith pronounced, ignoring his sarcasm. "I indulge in it with passion, as you should also, my dear Major! It might mitigate your, shall we say, somewhat caustic militaristic outlook on life, hmm?"

"Ease off, you two," Professor Robinson warned, coming into the galley while wiping his hands on a rag. He looked curiously at the table, then commented, "Where's Will?"

Penny answered as she sat down. "He's in his cabin. He said he has a stomach ache or something."

West looked thoughtfully over towards Will's closed cabin door. "While he was helping me with the fuel pump, he said he wasn't feeling very good. I told him to relax and go lie down."

"He's a growing boy," Smith lectured airily, waving a fork. "He needs more nutritious food than processed meat and these artificially raised brussel sprouts." He wrinkled his nose. "Or whatever these indistinguishable vegetable creations are."

Maureen turned and began walking off, talking to Judy over her shoulder. "Judy? Would you put the food out? I'll check on Will."

"And how is the refueling of our venerable spaceship coming, may I ask?" Dr. Smith inquired, looking at Professor Robinson and West in turn.

"It's coming fine," Don answered in a surprisingly civil tone. "Half is on board already, and we ought to be done with the rest before noon tomorrow."

"Splendid! Then, when do we leave?"

John held up a cautioning hand. "We do have a lot of tests to do first before we venture into space again. We've been on this world a long time, and the ship has been sitting virtually derelict."

"So we still have to wait a little?" Penny asked, looking somewhat crestfallen.

Robinson smiled at his daughter. "Not too long. Don and I will be working very hard to get the ship ready to go. I would say maybe a week."

"A week!" Smith blurted explosively, then seemed to take control of himself and smiled. "Well, better a week than a month, or a year."

"That's a very reasonable outlook, Dr. Smith!" John smiled, then looked over as Maureen returned to the table. "Well? How's Will?"  
Maureen sat down next to him and started passing plates of food handed to her by Judy. "He said he's not hungry and has a stomach ache. I felt his forehead…I think he's running a little temperature. He might have a touch of a cold."

"He's not coming to dinner, then?" the Professor asked. "That's certainly not like him. He _must_ be sick."

"I'll take a plate of food to him when we're done. I told him to just rest in bed."

"Sound medical advice!" Smith agreed cheerfully. "He'll be his chipper self in the morning, you'll see. Um, pass the roast beef, please," he paused uncertainly, eyeing the plate of brown squares distastefully, "if that's what it is?"

* * * *

However, Will did not improve in the morning. His temperature, while not alarming, was steady around 102o, and his stomach was still distressed in a general sort of way. He was up twice during the night vomiting. Maureen was looking very apprehensive when she came out of Will's cabin in the morning, sliding the door shut behind her.

Professor Robinson was walking towards the ladder when Maureen stopped him. "John, I told Will to stay in bed this morning and get some more sleep. He had a really rough night."

He turned towards her. "I know, I heard him up a number of times in the bathroom. What do you think he has?"

She stared at Will's closed door. "I don't know. Maybe a cold, or the flu. He's still feverish. But, where he could have picked up a bug or virus, I have no idea. No one else is sick."

"Could it be something he ate?" Don asked from the galley, where he was seated drinking a cup of coffee and overheard their conversation.

"He hasn't eaten anything we all didn't eat, and everyone else is fine, so I don't think so. Even so, he hardly ate at all last night." A thought occurred to her, and the worry lines deepened on her forehead. "You don't suppose he's picked up some alien virus…?"

Dr. Smith emerged from his cabin, wearing his robe and fluffy slippers. "Can't you all keep your voices down?" he griped indignantly. "I am trying to sleep in here; I must build my strength for the coming voyage. What time is it, anyway? Far too early, I am sure."

"You know," Don said genially, waving his cup in Smith's direction, "maybe it's time our resident 'doctor' did what he was trained to do and earned his keep."

"Oh, that's a wonderful idea!" Maureen exclaimed happily, as if the idea had never occurred to her. She brightened as she turned towards the doctor. "Dr. Smith, would you please look in on Will? I think he's sick with the cold or flu, or maybe a stomach virus."

Looking vaguely surprised, as if the idea had never occurred to him either, Smith said, "You want me to look in on Will?" He paused, then leaned forward significantly. "In a professional capacity?"

"Well," Maureen admitted, "it's probably nothing at all, and I'm just overreacting like the mother I am, but I would really appreciate your expert opinion." She smiled in her usual dazzling fashion. "As long as you don't mind doing a house call…?"

When she needed to, Maureen Robinson could use her natural beauty with devastating consequences; Smith practically melted. "I would be delighted to look in on the youngster!" He exclaimed, suddenly all smiles. "In fact, I'll do so right now, if it's all right with you, my dear."

West rolled his eyes derisively, but he bit off any cynical comment he might have made by raising the coffee cup to his lips and all but disappearing behind it.

Maureen spoke gracefully. "Oh, thank you, Dr. Smith. He's awake, please go right on in."

"Very well." Smith glanced thoughtfully at the Robot, who happened to be standing to one side, then turned to address him. "You there!" The bubble top on the Robot rose abruptly and turned to regard the doctor, as if the Robot was surprised to be suddenly addressed. "Yes you, you lugubrious lummox! You are being deputized as nurse and able-bodied assistant. Come here at once; we have a sick boy to cure! Come along, come along!" He urged impatiently, waving his arms. "No dawdling, now!"

With his robe swishing around his bare ankles and slippers padding along the deck, Smith swept to Will's cabin door, knocked, and walked in. After casting what appeared to be an uncertain glance at the rest of the family, the Robot rolled in behind him, and Smith slid the door shut.

West got out of his seat and swaggered over to John. Grinning, he handed a cup of steaming coffee over to the Professor, who accepted it gratefully. "Now that's something you don't see every day. Doctor Zachary Smith, MD, acting like the United States Air Force full-bird colonel and medical doctor that he was. Or, is, I suppose."

"Yes," Maureen added thoughtfully. "With all his over-the-top antics, sometimes I forget he is a highly trained physician, to say nothing of a senior military officer."

"Well," Don drawled, "any diagnosis he comes up with, I would take with a few grains of salt. However, I suppose it will be all right to see what he says."

John sipped his coffee and stared at Will's closed door, an undefined anxiety beginning to gnaw at him. "It's been a long time since anyone in this family came down with anything." He shook his head. "Frankly, Don, right about now I'm kind of glad we have Dr. Smith with us."

Don followed his gaze. When he spoke, it was with a soft, grudging admission that caused both John and Maureen to stare at him. "Me, too."

* * * *

"Well, well, well, and what do we have here?" Dr. Smith said expansively as he dropped heavily into the desk chair next to Will's bunk. "Gold-bricking, are we? When there's so much work to be done?"

Will smiled weakly at Dr. Smith. "Hi, Dr. Smith. Hi, Robot!"

The Robot remained near the door. "Hello, Will."

"Come now, my boy," Smith said, patting him fondly on the head. "Just tell the doctor how we feel today." He rested his hand on Will's forehead.

"We?" Will asked, puzzled, then pressed on. "Well, my stomach hurts, in a kind of funny way. I've had stomach aches before, and this feels different. Mom says I have a fever, and I feel kind of hot and shaky. And I keep feeling like I'm going to throw up."

Removing his hand, Smith leaned back and said wryly. "Judging from the sounds I heard last night from the bathroom, you succeeded a number of times. You definitely have a fever. Where does your stomach hurt?"

Will pulled up his pajama top and moved his hand towards his naval. "Around here," he pointed, then moved his hand to the right towards his pelvis, "and here."

Dr. Smith frowned in thought and laid a hand on Will's abdomen. "To the right, you say? Hmm. Is this tender right here?"

Will winced as Smith pressed the palm of his hand against his lower right abdomen. "Yes, sir."

"How long has it been feeling like this?"

Will tossed his head. "I guess it started a couple of days ago. Everyone's been so busy, I didn't think of mentioning anything about a stomach ache to Mom or Dad. I figured it would just go away, like all the others."

"Stout lad," Smith began, but waved a finger meaningfully in his face, taking on a scolding tone. "But you should always tell your parents if you aren't feeling well. Especially as we are in space and thousands of light years from the nearest hospital! The slightest ailment could have serious ramifications! Now, we shall continue the examination. Tell me how this feels…it might hurt."

He leaned forward and pressed his hand gently onto Will's right abdomen, then quickly lifted it. "Ouch!" Will exclaimed, as if the exclamation were ripped from him. Faintly accusatory, he said, "That hurt. A lot."

Smith sat back, folded his arms, and thoughtfully regarded his young patient.

The Robot broke in helpfully. "Human symptoms would seem to indicate a possible periappendiceal abscess or an inflammation of the vermiform…"

"Silence, you disreputable dunce!" Smith snapped irritably, scowling at him. "This is a medical matter. When I want your opinion on a health issue, I'll program you with one!"

The Robot lowered his bubble top with an annoyed metallic clack.

Smith turned back to Will and smiled soothingly, "Now, William, can I impose on you to give me a urine specimen in the near future? When you feel up to it, of course."

"You mean pee in a bottle?" Will asked with a wry look. "Yeah, I can probably do that in a little while. Why?"

"It would help me diagnose your condition. I will talk to your mother and get a cup for you to use. I'll need it as soon as you think you can provide one. Here," Smith handed Will a nearby glass that had water in it. "Drink up, and stay hydrated. It's critical to stay hydrated when you are ill. All right, now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good lad. I'll be back to check on you in a little while." Dr. Smith stood up to leave. "When you feel able to urinate, simply do so, leave the cup in the bathroom, and let someone know so I can be informed and retrieve it. And, keep drinking your water!" He turned towards the door.

"Dr. Smith?" Will asked, causing Dr. Smith to turn again towards him. "What's wrong with me?"

Dr. Smith paused. "Now, now, we still need data, as my mechanical stalwart here is constantly nattering on about. Rest up now while I go talk to your parents. And don't worry!"

Will was still looking dubious, but he respectfully said, "Okay. Thank you, Dr. Smith. Sorry to bother you!"

"Rubbish!" Smith tossed his head. "It's what I'm here for." He glared at the Robot. "You, sir!" The bubble top snapped up. "You have been no assistance at all! Come with me, you unctuous underling!" And he flung open Will's door and stalked out.

The Robot's eyes swiveled wearily towards Will and he extended a clawed arm in farewell. "Feel better, Will."

"Thanks, Robot! I'm sure I will. Thanks for visiting!"

"Come along!" Smith snarled impatiently from outside the cabin.

The Robot turned and left.

* * * *

"That is what I fear."

Dr. Smith, Professor Robinson, and Maureen were all seated around the table in the galley. Judy was standing nearby, her arms folded, listening intently as Dr. Smith affirmed his conclusion.

"Appendicitis?" Maureen asked in some surprise. "Are you sure?"

Dr. Smith leaned forward on his elbows, steepling his fingers in an academic manner. "His symptoms are classic, but no, I am not sure yet. I intend to perform a urinalysis to check for red blood cells, white blood cells, and bacteria in his urine that might indicate an infection of the appendix."

"Will that tell you definitively?" John asked, frowning.

"Not necessarily," Smith answered. "We really need an X-ray of the abdomen with a barium enema, along with a CT scan. However, I know we don't have the equipment or facilities on this ship to do that kind of examination. Wait!" He interrupted himself as a thought occurred to him. "Our sickbay is equipped with an ultrasound unit, is it not?"

John nodded. "That's true. It was part of our essential medical suite. It's still in its original packaging as far as I know. We've never had occasion to use it."

Heartened, Smith continued. "Splendid! I can do an ultrasound examination of his abdomen. However," he held up a hand to forestall Maureen's question. "Even that may not be conclusive."

"How should we proceed, then?" John asked.

"I can perform a microscopic analysis of his urine sample, then do an ultrasound. Depending on what I find, a laparoscopy would perhaps be needed."

"A what?" Judy asked, sitting down at the table.

The doctor warmed to his topic, his tone uncharacteristically professional. "It is a surgical procedure where a small fiber-optic tube is inserted into the abdomen to view the appendix directly. If it is inflamed or otherwise infected, I can immediately perform an appendectomy…a complete removal of the appendix. It is actually a fairly routine procedure, and, fortunately, some forward-thinking individual included a laparoscope in your medical store." His face split into a wide smile. "I believe that someone was me."

"Thank you for that strategic planning," John acknowledged gracefully. "But, won't that mean he'll have to go under a general anesthesia?"

Smith nodded, pleased that the Professor was quickly grasping the details. "You are correct, Professor Robinson. It is minor surgery, but it is surgery nonetheless. General anesthesia will be required."

"Can you do it?"

"Of course. It is the simplest matter for a medical professional of my vast experience."

Maureen and John exchanged looks.

"It sounds like we're not quite there yet, though, is that right?" John asked.

"Quite right. I have asked Will for a urine sample. Once I receive it, I will do the urinalysis first, which should take no time at all with the equipment we have in the sickbay. Immediately afterwards, I shall perform the ultrasound. I should have everything done before lunch. However," Smith cautioned, wagging a finger at his attentive audience. "Appendicitis is not something to be treated with antibiotics or pills. I must reemphasize that if it is, in fact, inflamed, it needs to come out before it bursts. We must act without delay."

The Professor sat back, folding his arms. "All right, doctor. Do what you think is right. Let us know if we can help; tell us as soon as you can on your findings."

Smith straightened pompously, thrusting out his chin. "Never fear…"

"Please, Dr. Smith," Maureen interrupted softly, holding up a hand. "Don't say it. My son's life may be in the balance, and it is in your hands." She paused as a frozen Dr. Smith watched her. "Please save my son."

Dr. Smith stared at her for a moment. He seemed to deflate slightly, and his face took on the most sincere, gentle, sympathetic look the family had ever seen. When he next spoke, it was clear it was coming from the heart. "Mrs. Robinson, you can count on me. I'll care for Will, like he was my own."

* * * *

"Appendicitis?" Major West asked as he finished tightening the hose clamp on another fuel drum. "Smith said that?"

West was standing amid the deutronium drums under the ship, tightening another hose clamp. Professor Robinson had come outside to check on the refueling progress.

"Yes, he did," John said. "He's giving Will an ultrasound now, but he seems rather certain of it. It might mean an appendectomy."

"I see." Don regarded Professor Robinson, withholding any disparaging remarks he was tempted to say about Dr. Smith's credentials. "You okay with this?"

John cocked a lopsided smile at the pilot. "Yeah, I'm okay." He peered at the refueling panel. "How's this operation going?"

West tapped a gage on the fuel pump. "Coming along great. Three more drums to go, and we'll have it all aboard."

Robinson cast a glance to where the force field generator sat humming. "And the force field is up?"

West followed his gaze. "Yup. We've got a complete bubble around the ship, adjusted down to about thirty meters. Nothing can get close."

John nodded. West turned back to the pump and adjusted a dial, then tweaked it back. Professor Robinson watched him for a few moments, finally saying, "Well, I'm going inside to start a list of things we need to do to prepare the ship for space. Call me if you need anything."

"You got it."

Robinson turned to leave.

"Hey, John?"

He stopped.

West paused. "Will is going to be just fine. I'm sure Dr. Smith knows what he's doing."

Robinson nodded and strode off towards the stairway into the ship. West watched him go, shook his head, and returned to monitoring the refueling gages.

Inside the Jupiter, Maureen met him as he emerged at the top of the stairs, her face creased in worry. She walked up to him and twined her arms around his waist, looking up at him. "It's appendicitis, John. Dr. Smith is preparing to operate, right now!"

* * * *

The galley was the designated surgery and was a scene of bustling activity. Dr. Smith directed all the preparations, including laying out of the surgical instruments, disinfecting the entire area, and putting together his surgical team, consisting of Judy, Maureen, and the Robot. Judy was to perform duties of primary nurse, while Maureen would be the anesthesiologist. The Robot, using both his onboard sensors, as well as monitors available from the Jupiter's sickbay, would monitor Will's vital signs.

Dr. Smith's transformation from overbearing schemer and self-centered, slothful whiner, to a sublimely poised, competent medical professional, was a wonder to behold. He moved efficiently, gave concise instructions, and directed all the preparations with orderly expertise. Even his tone towards the Robot was completely out of character, analytical and practiced, and he rapidly updated the Robot's programming with medical data from the Jupiter's central library computer. When Major West hauled in the wheeled case containing the surgical equipment, Smith opened it and immediately began directing the placement of the equipment around the makeshift surgery. West complied conscientiously, listening to Smith's directions and setting up all required instruments and monitors according to instruction and without any of the pilot's usual caustic comments.

The surgery was complete in a very short time. Satisfied, Dr. Smith looked around. Judy and Maureen were dressed in white surgical scrubs, as was Smith. Professor Robinson, Penny, and Major West stood at some distance, watching. The galley table was covered in white sheets, and a bright halogen light had been rigged overhead by Don to illuminate the table. Will lay on it, most of his body covered in another sheet. The Robot stood nearby with wires directly connecting him to several monitors set up in a bank to one side of the table.

Smith cast his eyes over the setup approvingly. "We are ready to begin. You all have your instructions." He glanced down at Will, who was staring up at him wide-eyed from the white-linen covered table. "All ready, Will?"

"Yes, sir."

Dr. Smith smiled and leaned down to whisper conspiratorially. "You know, this won't hurt a bit."

Will cracked a smile. "Yes, sir."

Smith looked at Judy and Maureen, who appeared nervous but attentive. They nodded wordlessly, signaling their readiness.

"Very well," Smith said. "It is time to begin. All non-essential personnel are to leave forthwith!" He glared meaningfully at the three who had no role in the operation.

"Can I stay?" Penny asked abruptly, looking up at Professor Robinson. "I'd really like to watch."

"Now, Penny," the Professor began. "Come with us."

"But, Dad…"

"Now, you heard Dr. Smith. It's time for us to leave him to his work. Go with Don." As the major and Penny turned towards the lift, John walked forward, reached under the sheet, and took Will's hand.

"See you in an hour or so, sport! Behave for the doctor, now!"

"I will sir," Will replied gamely, returning his father's smile.

John nodded, held his hand for a moment, then turned and walked over to the lift where Don and Penny were waiting. He entered, the grating slid closed around them, and the lift ascended out of sight.

Dr. Smith swept his gaze over his team. When he spoke, it was in a brisk, professional voice. "Robot, you may now administer the programmed dosage of anesthesia. Judy, slide the instrument tray over here; hand them to me as we discussed. Mrs. Robinson, you will monitor heart rate, blood pressure, breathing, and blood oxygen levels on these screens, and assist Judy as necessary. You have your tasks, but do nothing until I direct it." With a flourish, he announced, "We begin!"

* * * *

Don was wedged halfway under the central control panel under the main viewport. John was kneeling on the broad "dashboard" of the ship, applying a sealing compound to the seams of the main window with a powered caulking gun.

"That stuff smells pretty bad," Don commented from where he was working on electrical connections.

John just grunted and kept working.

"You okay up there?"

John stopped working, examining the smooth bead he had applied. "Yes."

West hauled himself out from under the console, disentangling himself from loose wires and components that dangled in riotous confusion from the panels above. He brushed off plastic connectors and bits of wire that had landed on his chest as he worked. He propped himself on an elbow and regarded the Professor.

"Hey, Professor. Will is going to be just fine. This is a pretty tame surgical procedure."

The muscles in John's jaw worked as he looked out through the viewport. "I know. You're right, of course. Nothing to it." After a pause, he continued. "This has just never happened to us before. I wonder if any of us could have done this surgery, if Dr. Smith hadn't been here."

"Hey, we're colonists!" Don said jauntily. "The United States wouldn't have sent us out to the stars if they didn't think we would be able to take care of ourselves. Even in case of a medical emergency!"

John sat back against the side of the bulkhead containing the viewport. "Perhaps. I know we've all had the training, and all our medical manuals are supposed to walk us through anything, step by step, from removing a wood splinter from a finger to open heart surgery." He shook his head. "But now that the reality is here, I wonder just how prepared we were, and are, and whether a simple family in space could survive for long with no infrastructure at all, other than what they bring with them." He turned towards Don. "Or whether I was right to bring my entire family on such a dangerous, questionable mission. Seems a bit foolhardy, when you really start to think about it with hindsight."

Don eyed the professor carefully. They had had this conversation before, and West knew he was in risky waters, depending on how he responded. So, he chose to remain silent, waiting for John to resume.

"But," John finally continued his thinking out loud, "I suppose it's all a moot point now, since we are committed to returning to Earth." The Professor stiffened slightly, and something outside the viewport seemed to command his full attention.

"That's true," Don said cautiously, weighing his words, noticing John's sudden concentration. "We'll let the politicians and scientists back on Earth evaluate the mission we've accomplished so far, and make further study with that data as to the feasibility of sending another colonization mission. And, who to staff it with."

"The force field is on, isn't it?"

Startled at the sudden change in topic, he replied, "Er, what?"

"The force field," John said in an odd conversational tone, never taking his eyes from the view outside. "It is on, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah," he answered uncertainly, still not sure where this conversation was going. "It's been on since the Robot brought the last drum of deutronium over from the Chariot." He climbed to his feet, concerned at the intense way John was looking out the viewport. "What's the problem…?"

As he rose to his feet, he saw it outside. "Good God!" West cried in disbelief. "Not him again!"

* * * *

Will was in deep sleep, brought on by the anesthesia. Smith had sterilized three sites on Will's abdomen, made the first incision, and had inserted the laparoscope, which he was manipulating in search of the appendix, watching the video feed on a nearby monitor.

Suddenly, the ship reverberated to a loud blow, as from a collision with something very hard, and Smith froze. Metal instruments rattled on trays, the overhead light swung slightly and vibrated, and the figures clustered around the galley table staggered.

Maureen tore her gaze from the monitor showing the image of the inside of Will's abdomen. "What…?"

"Warning!" the Robot suddenly warbled, stretching out his arms. Cables attaching him to the monitors snaked wildly about. "Warning! Alien attack has commenced! Sensors have detected a large life-form approaching…"

"Silence, you insensate idiot!" Smith whirled on him, furious. "We are conducting surgery here! Stop that caterwauling at once!"  
The ship rocked again to another blow.

"This is intolerable!" Smith growled, staring up at the ceiling. "What could be happening out there? An earthquake…?"

Across the deck, the door to Penny's cabin flew open, and the young girl leaped out in confusion.

Maureen caught sight of her. "Penny! Go upstairs and find out what is going on!"

The ship was jolted again. Without a word, Penny tore her eyes from the galley/surgery and spun towards the lift when Smith shouted after her. "Tell your father to stop making this infernal racket at once! No, no, take the ladder! Don't wait for that ridiculous lift; it's still on the upper deck. Hurry, child!"

Penny flew up the ladder to the upper deck. She found her father and Don violently hauling open the armory closet near the main door and pulling out their long-range laser rifles.

"Dad?" she began, hurrying over to them. "Mom wants to know…"

"Penny!" John cried, and the ship lurched again to another blow. "We're under attack. Go back and tell your mother it's the giant cyclops again. We'll handle it up here."

"Cyclops…?" Penny began, dashing up to the circular window port next to the door. "But I thought…"

"Penny! Now!" John commanded. "Get downstairs and tell them."

She ran.

"I thought we killed that guy," West growled, slapping a power pack into the rifle, noting the indicators flash up to full power with an electronic whine.

"Could be another cyclops, or we just thought we killed him!" John exclaimed, staggering as the ship jumped under their feet again. "I won't be able to shoot until we get the force field off."

"Just get in position at the door and let me know when you're ready," Don said, taking up a position at the flight control panel and putting his finger on the remote switch that was tied in to the force field generator outside.

John ran to the main upper deck entry door and hit the "unlock" button. The door slid open smoothly, revealing the 20-foot drop to the desert floor, since the Jupiter was sitting properly on its struts, rather than on its belly, as it had at its last landing site. John strode to the yawning opening and leaned out, evaluating the situation outside.

Three years ago, shortly after their arrival on this world, the family had encountered a giant of a monster. It was forty or fifty feet in height, rising on two stupendous legs that rose from splay, clawed feet. The barrel-shaped body was completely covered in stringy, matted fur that blew in the high altitude winds that whistled about its head and shoulders. Upon that pate, long growths of hair waved haphazardly about a single grotesquely revolving eye. Below that was a cavernous mouth, lipless, but containing rows of gnarled teeth and fangs. The roar of the beast could be heard for miles and shook the very cliffs around the crash site of the Jupiter. When it had menaced John and Don while they were inspecting their high altitude weather station, Will had come to their rescue with a laser pistol, firing on the creature and sending it crashing to the ground in a swoon. The three had made their escape back to the ship, hoping never to see such a monstrosity again.

However, shortly thereafter, extreme plunging temperatures had forced the family to abandon the Jupiter, clamber aboard the Chariot, and seek warmer climates. During passage through a rocky gorge, they found their way blocked by the cyclops, who, in a fit of primordial rage, had rained huge boulders upon them. Before the horror could destroy the Chariot and everyone on board, Don blasted the leviathan with a laser rifle, sending it once again crashing to the ground. The family continued on their way, thinking they had finally destroyed the creature for good. The years passed with no further sighting of the beast.

Now, it was back, and, if it were not the same cyclops that had menaced them years ago, it was of the same breed and madder than ever. It stood behind the cliffs that rose sheerly out of desert a short distance away; only its upper torso and head could be seen above the ramparts. However, the angrily rotating eye kept returning to focus on the silver disk of the Jupiter 2. Each time it did, it presaged the launch of another titanic boulder the creature heaved through the air at the ship. Arcing through the air, the enormous piece of rock unerringly flew across intervening space to impact squarely on the force field covering the ship, causing Professor Robinson to duck involuntarily. Upon contact with the field, the boulder, each one easily measuring ten or twenty feet in diameter, would explode in a shower of sparks and smoke, raining debris in a wide swath about the Jupiter's landing site. While none of the remnants physically reached the ship, the raw kinetic energy of the impact was transmitted through the field and the blows were felt by those inside the ship.

The creature had apparently climbed the rubble that still blocked the valley entrance from which the Chariot had so recently escaped. It was launching its attack from atop the pile of stone from which it had ample reserves of missiles to throw at the spaceship. With each mighty heave, the brute would voice a deep, bestial cry of rage that echoed from the surrounding mountains out into the desert.

Don staggered as another boulder exploded in the air over the ship. "The force field won't last much longer!" he yelled over the roaring of the creature. "The field's already overheated with the energy it's absorbed. A couple more of those boulders and it's done for!" His tone changed to one of anger. "What's this guy's problem, anyway?"

John took aim with the laser, bracing himself against the door sill. "Don't know. Get ready, Don." He watched as the cyclops bent low for another missile. "Now! Shut it down!"

Don punched the force field shutoff button and raced to the door. John was already firing when Don flung his body against the opposite door sill, took fast aim, and let loose with own his rifle. Twin beams of laser light lanced out at the distant creature, striking it directly in the chest. With a roar of pain, the monster toppled over backwards, dropping the boulder it had been about to fling at the ship, and vanished from sight behind the debris of the avalanche field.

"We got him!" Don yelled triumphantly, his fighting instincts aroused. He stabbed a fist into the air. "Take that, you son of a bitch! That should do him."

Professor Robinson shook his head dubiously. "I'm not sure about that. Listen!"

They could both hear the creature continuing to howl and scrabble beyond the rock walls of the canyon.

"I don't think he's done with us, yet."

"Bring it on!" Don raged, and then raised his voice even more. "You hear that, you ugly bastard! Come on back and you'll get some more!"

John let him rant on for some time, marveling once again at Don's colorful mastery of the cruder elements of the English language.

The major finally ran out of steam and addressed John. "Why the hell do you think this bastard keeps attacking us? He just comes out of the mountains and starts throwing rocks at us! What is his major malfunction?"

"If it's the same cyclops we encountered three years ago, maybe he's still sore and is holding a grudge."

Don straightened up in amazement, lining up the sights of his laser rifle again. "Man, I'll say he holds a grudge! _Here he comes again_!"

Enormous, clawed hands were appearing again at the top of the rubble pile.

"Aim for the head when you see it!" John barked. "Wait on it! Now! _Fire!_"

They fired. Both beams contacted the repulsive face just below the single eye as the creature was heaving itself up into their view. The beast emitted a piercing cry of pain and flew backwards, disappearing from sight. The gorges shook to a heavy impact, and an enormous plume of dust shot into the air. The men could hear the movement of a great quantity of falling rock and earth that eventually hissed off into silence.

Both men stood at the ready, holding their breath, but nothing further happened. Only the distant wind moaned feebly through the cliff tops.

"Don," John muttered, still watching down the sight of his rifle. "Go down and check the force field coolant level. Cycle the fluid through the heat exchanger for about thirty seconds, and let me know when you're done so we can turn it back on. I'll watch from up here in case he comes back."

"I'm on it."

Don spun and ran back inside the ship, slinging the laser rifle over his shoulder and climbing hand over fist down the ladder to the lower deck.

Four pairs of eyes locked onto him as he ran across the deck.

"It's all right," Don said breathlessly as he reached the stair that led down the landing strut. "I think we got him."

Maureen stared incredulously at him. "What are you talking about? You got who? What's going on up there? Penny said something about a cyclops…?"

"If you gentlemen can keep this vessel from dancing around like a drunken sailor," Dr. Smith cut in irascibly, waving his scalpel at West, "I can finish my work with the precision it requires!"

West looked back at the group around the operating table. "Yes, it's that cyclops thing! He's back and throwing more rocks at us!"

Judy's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God! I thought Penny was exaggerating…!"

"Just keep at it," Don bellowed impatiently over his shoulder as he ran down the stairwell. "We'll take care of that bastard…!"

"See that you do!" Smith shouted after him. He turned back to Maureen, complaining like the Smith of old. "Really! How can one be expected to do the work necessary…" His voice trailed off into mumbling as he bent back to his work.

Meanwhile, Don had clattered down the stair to attend to the force field generator outside. Launching off the landing pad and sprinting across the sand, he skidded to a halt at the force field generator control panel, quickly noting a flashing red light denoting an overheat condition. After glancing across the intervening desert to ensure himself the monster was not about to make another appearance, he quickly pulled a lever on the generator to initiate the coolant regeneration cycle.

"John, can you see anything up there?" he called, raising his voice and watching the indicator needles on the coolant level start falling below the red zones.

"No sign so far," John answered from his unseen perch far above. "How's our medical team doing?"

"Will is doing great," Don answered, anticipating the question while pensively watching the gages. "Smith is as touchy as ever, so that must be a good sign."

About a minute later, Don said, "There! It's complete. Coolant is in the green. You want me to turn it back on from here?"

"Yes, go ahead."

"Okay, here it comes."

He flipped several switches and was rewarded with a high pitched tone that started high and dwindled down to silence. He checked all indications and nodded to himself, then shouted upwards. "It's on, looks good. We have a full protective bubble again."

"Good," came John's voice. "I'm going to stay here on watch in case he comes back."

Don walked out beyond the rim of the ship so he could look up and see John framed by the open doorway overhead. "I'll stay down here and mind the machine in case our friend comes back."

John looked down at him. "Good idea. I don't want him lobbing anymore rocks at us and shaking things up while Will's operation is going on."

"Hey, John, I say let's go on the offensive. How about if I go over there and see what that one-eyed abomination is up to? I can use the jet pack, fly over at a safe altitude and fry him proper with the laser!"

"No," John said without hesitation, scanning the cliff tops carefully. "You'd be too far out there, alone. If something happened, there would be no way I could get to you, now that the Chariot is destroyed."

"But…"

The Professor cut him off. "Sorry, Don. This is just the way I would prefer it. I don't want to divide our forces right now."

Don considered arguing some more, but he saw the futility of changing John's mind once made up. "All right," he sighed in a somewhat surly manner. "I'll just be over here at the generator."

Don walked back over to the force field generator and plopped down on the sand. He laid his rifle over his lap and leaned against the generator pedestal, muttering to himself, "Never a dull moment, around here. Never."

* * * *

"Ah, ha!" Dr. Smith announced victoriously, pointing at the monitor screen. "Look! There is the offending appendage!"

Maureen looked away from Will's vital signs monitor. On Smith's video feed, she saw something that looked like an engorged, glistening worm protruding from the bottom of what had to be Will's large intestine.

"That's his appendix?" Judy asked incredulously, leaning closer to peer at the screen.

"That's it," Smith affirmed. "Look how swollen it is! It has to be removed. Here," he placed Judy's hand on the handle of the laparoscope. "Hold this steady right there. Don't move. I am going to make another incision to remove the appendix…"

"His vitals are still stable," Maureen said, her eyes darting back and forth between monitors. "But the anesthesia line is dropping off. Shouldn't we increase…?"

"Robot," Smith said without taking his eyes off the task at hand. "Increase drip levels to compensate. Maintain current antibiotic ratio."

"Acknowledged," the Robot answered. "Drip increased to stabilize anesthesia line, antibiotics unchanged."

"Dr. Smith," Judy said excitedly, "I see your probe on the video monitor!"

"Yes," he said with satisfaction, looking up to check for himself. "Time to do the work, thusly…" He bent back to his task, his head turned to watch the monitor.

For several minutes, there was no sound in the makeshift surgery other than the muted beeping of life monitors and the whirring clicks from the Robot.

"There!" Smith proclaimed exultantly, laying something that glistened redly on a nearby tray.

Repelled, all three women, including Penny, who had remained with them following the cyclops attack, leaned forward to have a closer look in spite of themselves.

"Eww," Penny cried distastefully, peering from behind her mother, her eyes staring widely. "That's really…"

"Penny, that's enough," Maureen chided, pushing her back. "Let Dr. Smith concentrate."

"Time for the suturing," Smith muttered. "We'll be done shortly, now. Judy, move the scope down…no, the other direction, right there! Good. Steady, now…"

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Smith had pulled the sheet back over Will's recumbent form and straightened with a grimace.

"We are finished. Oh, dear, my delicate back," he groaned, arching his spine and pressing his hand to the small of his back in a very characteristic manner. "That is what I get for operating on a kitchen table." He rolled his eyes. "Oh, the pain. The pain!"

Maureen stared at Judy, and then, much to Dr. Smith's indignant irritation, everyone, including Penny, broke out laughing.

31


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven – Escape from Preplanus

A week had passed, and Will's recovery was rapid and highly gratifying to everyone, especially Dr. Smith, whom the family was regarding with far greater respect than in the past. In fact, within a day, Will was up and around, running computer simulations, programming the Robot with navigation algorithms, and lending a hand in the preparations to make the ship space-worthy again. Naturally, Dr. Smith continued to fuss over him like a mother hen, prescribing everything from bed rest to foot baths to chicken soup (of which, of course, they had none). Without being disrespectful, Will, in the invincibility of youth and his preoccupation with the excitement surrounding their preparations for departure, nonetheless blithely ignored all Smith's instructions. For his part, Dr. Smith was clearly enthusiastic about assuming the role of the wise, paternalistic healer, taking every opportunity of reminding the family of his expertise in the operating room. A grateful family gave him wide latitude in this; even Major West grudgingly humored Smith with uncharacteristic grace, allowing the doctor his "moment in the sun".

The cyclops did not reappear. The Robot reported, via his sensors, that the colossus had retreated somewhere into the mountainous canyons to the south. Even so, in the distance, his angry and frustrated howls could be heard nightly as the family sat around their table at dinner, suggesting that the monster was possibly considering further mischief against the band of space travelers. Major West had finally convinced John to allow him to perform a reconnaissance over the mountains with their well-used jet pack, but the cyclops stayed mysteriously out of sight, possibly in some large, dark cavern somewhere. Because of the continued threat, the entire family went about their business armed and looking frequently towards the rocky cliffs in the distance.

The climate of the planet they had dubbed "Preplanus" continued to deteriorate as the volcanoes on the other side of the world continued to spew out their noxious fumes and globe-encircling smoke that got thicker every day. In fact, daylight was never better than a murky, brownish-gray twilight through which the sun never shone, and nighttime was punctuated by flashes of lightning from the static buildups in the roiling atmosphere. Additionally, on one of Don's patrols with the jet pack, he spotted the spreading sea slowly advancing towards them out of the distant west, as the unpredictable and unaccountable spread of the ocean began reaching out towards them once again. The planet was clearly in the midst of some vast and multifaceted upheaval that was quickly rendering the world hostile to continued human life. Professor Robinson had run several computer simulations that all predicted the Robinson's ability to survive on Preplanus was now measured in days, rather than weeks, months, or years. The decision was clear: it was time to go, and right away.

"Fuel pressure is still only at forty-five percent," Professor Robinson spoke into the intercom microphone, tapping a gage on the engineering panel. "Try pulling and resetting the circuit breaker again."

Don's voice came from the speaker on the main control panel. "Okay, here it goes. I'm going to leave it out for a few seconds, and then reset it. Pulling it now. Waiting," he said. Then, after nearly half a minute, "Okay, circuit breaker is back in. Turn on pumps two through seven first, then the others in numerical sequence."

Robinson opened several red-guarded switches and flipped them in sequence. His eyes narrowed as he scanned a panel. Smiling in relief, he pressed the microphone switch. "That's got it. They all show in the green."

"Great!" West answered. He was down in the engine bay adjacent to the reactor room, and his shirt was soaked in sweat and grime. He closed a circuit breaker panel door with a snap, wiped his forehead with his arm, and pressed the microphone transmit button on the nearby communication panel. "I'm going to tackle the radiation shields next. Those tests will take about an hour. Can you ask someone to bring me down something to drink? The generators have turned this place into hell. I'm parched."

Upstairs, Judy was walking across the deck with a large bin of electronics, heading for the lift. While Don was talking, she had stopped at the lift, pressed the access button, and waited as the guard rails slid open. She entered and turned towards the Professor. "Dad, I'm going downstairs with this. I can bring Don something to drink."

"I'm sure he would appreciate it," John mumbled distractedly without turning, reaching for some notes that littered the tops of the consoles under the main viewport. At the same time, he raised the microphone and keyed the transmit button. "Judy's coming down there with something for you."

"A Corona with lime, please, if you're taking orders," Don's voice came cheerfully from the speaker.

At that, John looked up and chuckled despite his preoccupation. "Sorry, Major, you know the bar's been out of business since October, 1997."

As Judy descended, she giggled.

"Will!" John snapped abruptly. "I need those navigation figures you promised me!"

Will was working on the Robot over to the right of the pilot console. He grabbed several pages of printouts and handed them over to his father. "Here they are," he said.

"Those figures are accurate to one thousandth of a decimal point," the Robot assured him, swiveling slightly towards John in spite of the cables snaking from his panels into the navigation console.

John scanned the columns of figures intently. "I'm sure that will be adequate. Thank you…"

"Warning!" the Robot interrupted, thrusting out his arms and waving them wildly.

"Again?" John said wearily, glancing out the viewport. "And where is he now?"

"Sensors indicate the large life form you call the cyclops is moving in our direction from within the canyons to our south. Hostile intention is likely."

Robinson sighed, leaned down and picked up his laser rifle. "Can't get any work done around here with all these distractions," he grumbled to himself as he rose and walked towards the airlock door and cycled it, standing inside the lock as the outer door opened. He leaned on the bulkhead and pointed the rifle over the distant wreck of the Chariot to the avalanche debris field at the entrance to the canyon.

"How far, Robot?" he called over his shoulder.

"One thousand, two hundred meters and closing slowly on the canyon entrance."

"Will, check the force field integrity."

Will peered over at a gage on the flight console. "It's still at ninety three percent, Dad."

"Good."

Maureen, who had been working near the radio communications panel, came over and stood by John in the open door, the wind blowing her hair around her face. "Anything?" She was also wearing a laser rifle slung over her shoulder.

John sighted along the rifle. "No, not yet. Our favorite monster is just doing his thing again, whatever it is. He comes close, and then retreats, like he's testing our reactions. Very odd behavior."

The Robot retracted his arms with a conclusive snap. "Cancel warning. Alien life form has turned and is moving away in erratic fashion. I shall resume gravitational computations for Will."

Professor Robinson relaxed, lowering the rifle, clicking off the power switch. "Perhaps the big guy is just as confused and concerned as we are with the changes occurring to this planet."

"His motivation is difficult to assess," the Robot commented, watching the two at the airlock even while his processors tackled Will's equations.

Maureen looked into the distance and sniffed the air. "But at least _we_ can leave this terrible place. That sulfur smell is stronger today."

John nodded. "Yes, it is." He scanned the desolate scene, shouldered the rifle, and stepped back into the Jupiter after closing the twin airlock hatches behind him.

Maureen folded her arms and walked over to where Will had resumed work on the Robot. "Are you getting anywhere?"

"I'm almost done programming the Robot," Will said, tinkering with some tools in a panel on the Robot's front. He grinned up at the Robot. "I think you'll do a much better job than our old astrogator console!"

The Robot's twin sensors just under his bubble top swiveled in Will's direction. "There was never any doubt," he intoned dryly.

Maureen laughed. "That's probably true, Robot, but remember: pride cometh before the fall!"

"Ah, the Bible, Proverbs, chapter 16, verse 18," the Robot noted, after a very slight pause. "The quote is actually: 'Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.' But I hardly see how that is relevant."

"Thank you for that correction," Maureen responded, suppressing a smile and winking at Will, who was staring curiously at her. She then turned and walked over to the helm of the Jupiter, where Professor Robinson was once more intently studying reams of data. He was seated in the pilot chair and several printouts were spread out in front of him.

She watched him for a moment. "How are _you_ doing?"

"Hmm?" He did not look up.

She leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of his head. "How's it going?"

As if startled, John glanced up at her, a faraway look on his face. "Fine." Then, realizing he was being brusque, he leaned back in the pilot's chair and sighed apologetically. "Fine," he repeated, softening his edgy tone. "But I do believe we're going to have to get out of here soon."

"How soon?"

"Tomorrow."

Maureen's eyes went wide. "Tomorrow?" She sat down in the copilot's seat next to him. "I thought we were thinking another couple of days, maybe a week, at least?"

John waved a hand at the papers strewn around him. "Too many variables, but I think I've finally got a handle on most of them." He began ticking items on his fingers. "The increasing poisonous content of this planet's atmosphere, the narrow launch window we need to make it back to Earth, the rate of fuel consumption while we just sit here," he waved a hand vaguely towards the viewport, "the cyclops who keeps threatening us, our dwindling food supply, the decreasing temperatures, the advancing ocean…all of those things. All the models indicate we can't remain here more than another seventy-two hours. After that, one or more variables will drop out, and our options start to narrow very quickly. The first one to go is our ability to reach Earth on the computed trajectory."

She frowned, allowing her mind to grasp the import of his words. She never even considered asking him if he was sure. She simply said, "Can we be ready?"

"We'll have to be." He took her hands in his and looked intently into her eyes. "If we don't launch in seventy two hours, we can still get away from this world, but we cannot make Earth. We would not even be able to resume the mission to Alpha Centauri. We would remain in space, wandering, looking for another planet to settle on before the fuel--or our luck--ran out."

Maureen paled, thinking about further years lost in space. "But everyone is so set on returning to Earth." Her brow instantly furrowed in anger at herself as she detected the faint whining tone in her voice. She was about to say something else, firming up her voice to erase the effect of her last statement, but John spoke first, taking her hands in his.

"Exactly. So, darling, in twenty four hours, no more, I intend for us to be back in space." Both the Robot and Will were listening. John paused. "And heading for Earth." He straightened. "Let's tell the others. Robot! Start the countdown clock. Zero hour: twenty four hours from now."

"Acknowledged," the Robot said as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "Coordinating ship's chronometer. Time to launch: twenty three hours, fifty nine minutes, fifty nine seconds: mark. And counting."

* * * *

Once more, the Jupiter was vibrating to the power of her engine. Don was sitting in the left hand pilot seat in front of the main control consoles, his right hand on the thrust levers and his left on the control stick. John was seated next to him in the copilot's seat; Maureen was at the engineering panel. Behind them, Will, Penny, Judy, and Dr. Smith were strapped in to their acceleration couches. The Robot stood to one side near the airlock; cables were running from his torso into the bank of panels on one bulkhead which had once been connected to the central navigation console.

"Robot, what is the location of the cyclops?" Professor Robinson called out.

"The alien life form is advancing rapidly towards us," the Robot called out, increasing his volume to compensate for the engine noise. "Sensors indicate the creature is just on the other side of the debris wall. Perhaps it is attracted to the sound of our departure."

"Maybe he's gotten used to our company and doesn't want us to leave the party yet," Don commented sardonically, adjusting thrust control.

John looked out through the main viewport. The force field generator was still on the ground providing the protective bubble of energy shielding the ship. Because of the cyclops, they were being forced to leave the machine on the planet to provide protection for as long as possible during their liftoff.

"Look!" Judy called in alarm, lifting a hand and pointing.

A boulder the size of a large automobile was arcing from the canyon like it had been shot from a catapult and flew far overhead, to impact some distance beyond the Jupiter.

"The attack has commenced! Warning! Extreme danger!" the Robot wailed, waving his arms and flailing the cables connecting him to the Jupiter.

"Yeah, we _computed_ that ourselves," Don growled. "At least he's seemed to have lost the range."

"There he is!" Will yelled.

The cyclops was clawing its way over the top of the debris wall closing off the valley as if fearing its quarry was about to escape. Its mouth was wide open, but its roar could not be heard in the sealed vessel.

West watched the altitude indicator. Then, he shouted, "We're off the ground! Retracting struts, engaging position hover."

The Jupiter's landing struts retracted into its belly, but the ship remained stationary, hardly ten feet between the bottom of the vessel and the ground. Dust swirled furiously about the pedestal that supported the force field generator. It wobbled ominously in the turbulence from the engine, straining the cables that Don had used to tie it down in anticipation of their launch. The ship hovered inside the invisible energy bubble of the force field.

Professor Robinson's eyes shifted from the force field generator to the cyclops. "Here comes another missile. This could be our opportunity..."

The hairy beast had heaved another large rock at the ship. This one flew true and struck the force field directly over the ship. Upon contact with the protective field, the rock exploded into dust and shards that were repulsed away.

"Here we go!" John's fist came down on the force field deactivation button. The switch on the helm remotely controlled power to the generator outside the ship. Several lights on the panel went out. "Now, Don! The force field is off! Get us out of here!"

West hauled back on the stick and shoved the thrust lever to the stop. The Jupiter immediately began a level, vertical climb that caused the gravity compensators inside to whine in protest at the sudden load. Everyone was flung back in their seats as the ship leaped into the air and away from the surface of the planet. The cyclops was in the act of lifting another huge boulder to hurl at its foe when it saw the vessel shooting rapidly out of range. It voiced a final bellow of pure bestial hatred at the escaping ship, but the Jupiter soared quickly and punched into the overcast layer, instantly hidden in dirty volcanic smoke and ash.

"Looking good," Don affirmed, his eyes scanning the panel. "We are clear and climbing. Good vector. Thrust reduction altitude coming up, pulling it back. Engaging autopilot."

"We're pressurizing normally," Maureen called from the engineering panel.

"Vents are clear," John noted, his hands dancing over the console. "All systems are go. Wait…!"

Don looked over, alarmed at John's tone. "What…?"

"Fuel pump two just dropped off line!" John shouted. "Reactor temperature is dropping!"

The ship wobbled and leveled off; a klaxon began to wail.

"What is going on?" Behind them, Dr. Smith sat up in fright. He pointed at the altitude indicator that had reversed itself and began clicking down again. "Why are we descending? Look at the altitude indicator! We have to climb!"

"Losing power," Don said through gritted teeth, wrestling with the control stick, the thrust levers full forward at the stop. "I can't maintain the climb."

"We're falling!" Penny cried as the ship nosed over.

"It's the fuel pump!" Don yelled. "We can't maintain escape thrust. John, take the controls. I've got to get down into the engine bay and find out what's going on before we have complete shutdown!"

He threw his seat restraints off, leaped up, and ran for the ladder to the lower deck. John shifted to the pilot seat, silenced the howling klaxon, and grabbed the control stick, shouting over his shoulder. "Hurry! We're too high for a controlled touchdown! Four minutes to impact!"

"I know, I know," West cried back, practically diving down the ladder well and disappearing.

"We're doomed!" Smith moaned. "Doomed! This is really our last. Oh, dear, oh dear, my heart…"

"Maureen!" Robinson snapped. "Take the copilot's seat. Start calling out vertical velocity and altitude."

Maureen unstrapped and slid into the copilot's seat. "Two thousand feet, descending at five hundred feet per minute and increasing. Eighteen hundred feet, seventeen hundred feet…"

Outside, the Jupiter was sinking unsteadily back towards the ground, right back towards the Robinson's erstwhile one-eyed nemesis, who rolled his single eye and screamed triumphantly, bending to grasp for another missile.

In the engine room, the access door crashed open with a loud clang and West tumbled in, bouncing off the walls as the ship gyrated unsteadily. The engine surged and whined as the reactor struggled to provide steady power, and several red lights were flashing on various panels. Cursing at the pandemonium, he stepped over various components in the tight confines of the engine room, leaned down and yanked open an access panel on the floor. Below, there was a maze of cables, conduits, wire bundles, and assorted cabinets. He wriggled down, forcing his body into the tight space, throwing his legs around a long, thick pipe that bisected the compartment. He swung sideways, grasping a handhold with one hand and lowering himself into a horizontal position, reaching for a panel down at the bottom of the cavity. He pulled on a latch, desperately trying to open the panel.

"Whose damned idea was it to put this panel way the hell down here?" Don ranted loudly to himself as he worked on the latch. "Idiot engineers!"

"Don!" Professor Robinson's voice came over a nearby loudspeaker. "Whatever you're going to do, make it happen now! We have three minutes to impact! I can't control the descent rate, and it's increasing!"

West reached over and viciously slapped the "hot microphone" switch on the nearby intercom panel, cursing luridly as the ship took an unexpected lurch and he banged his head against a low-hanging shelf. "I know! The latch is stuck! And, I need someone else down here to help me…!" He reached onto the shelf that had just put a crease in his head, grabbed a pliers that was laying there amid some other assorted tools, and bent back to work on the panel latch.

Upstairs, John turned to glance at his son. "Will!" The boy jumped in surprise. "Get down there and help Don. Go! Go!"

His amazement supreme, Will nonetheless reacted with admirable speed, quickly throwing off his seat restraints, jumping up, and dashing headlong for the ladder, grinning in spite of the situation. He staggered across the deck as the ship rolled but kept his feet. Reaching the ladder, he swept down the well like a monkey.

West, still hanging bodily over the panel, his legs locked around the pipe and his free hand on the handhold, was twisting the panel latch with the pliers when Will showed up in the engine room doorway overhead. "Don…?" He peered down into the compartment Don had wedged himself into.

Don looked over his shoulder, surprised to see the most junior member of the crew there to assist. "Will? What are you doing…? Okay, never mind! Just go to the main circuit breaker panel and throw the control switch for fuel pump two. No, not that one!" He pointed with the pliers, grimacing from his awkward position on the conduit. "The one on the left! That's it! Quick, open it…!"

Will had located the correct panel, threw open the door, and scanned down rows of small black, green, and red levers.

"Look for seven red levers about half way down!" Don directed. "Keep going…they should be marked 'Engine Fuel Control', and they'll be all in a row."

Will scanned down, using his finger to track along numerous levers and placards. His finger stopped at a row. "Found them!"

"Find the one marked 'Two' and pull it open. You'll have to hold it…!"

Will located the switch, pulled it, then watched it slip from his fingers as a force slammed it shut again, throwing blue sparks. He backed away, startled and shielding his face. "Don, it closed itself!"

"With the engine running, it's held closed magnetically," West yelled the explanation over his shoulder, biting off a curse that had come unbidden to his lips. He resumed furiously twisting the panel latch with the pliers. "You've gotta hold it open while I get alternate power on the pump from here. You can do it! Just hold it open…"

The entire ship reverberated to a clanging blow, throwing Will to the floor and causing West to fetch up against the panel he was working on. He had to throw his free hand down to the deck to keep from falling completely into the cavity.

"Something hit us!" Will cried, struggling to his feet.

"Hang on down there," Professor Robinson's voice came over the intercom. "The cyclops just scored a direct hit on us. I'm trying to fly away from him, but I haven't much power for maneuvering…"

Will lurched back to the control panel, grabbed the lever, gritted his teeth, and opened the switch again. He could feel the switch buzzing angrily in his hands as the magnetic interlock tried to force it back closed, but no further sparks came out of it. "It's open, Don, I got it!"

"Hold it open," West wheezed. "I'm still trying to…there it goes!" he cried triumphantly as the latch he was working on finally popped open.

Dropping the pliers with a clang, he yanked the door open. Inside, there were several dusty, red T-handles. He immediately reached in, grabbed one of the handles, and twisted it clockwise. The handle turned slightly, but he could only make it go about a quarter of the distance it needed to go.

"C'mon, you bastard, c'mon!" he shouted wildly, exerting all his strength despite the lack of leverage resulting from his uncomfortable position on the pipe. "Dammit, it's jammed! Son of a bitch…"

In a fit of adrenalin-fueled effort and non-stop four-letter words, he grabbed the T-handle with both hands and twisted. Veins stood out on his forehead. Sweat dripped into his eyes. His fingers were turning white. Without the handhold to support him, he had fallen further into the cavity, his face smashed against the panel he was working on, his legs flailing in the air.

"Don!" Will cried. "I can't hold this much longer…"

"We're not going to make it," John's voice blared from the intercom. "Brace for impact in fifteen seconds…"

With a bestial yell, West went back full counter-clockwise and then convulsively slammed the T-handle back clockwise, which then went full against the alternate stop.

Don bellowed in shocked triumph. He heaved himself away from the panel to shout up to Will. "Got it! Release the lever. It should come back on line…"

Will let go of the switch he was holding, and it snapped back into the closed position with another shower of sparks. The lights in the engine room dimmed slightly as a load came on, and the engine suddenly accelerated to full thrust, violently hurling Will back to the metal deck. Don became further wedged into the cavity and hung on as best he could. Several loose tools and spare parts slid off overhead shelves, showering Don with debris.

Upstairs, everyone was thrown back in their seats as the Jupiter's engine went instantly to full power, and the ship shot up away from the planet, narrowly avoiding another boulder thrown by the cyclops. Several of the family screamed. Professor Robinson, surprised by the sudden acceleration, hauled back wildly on the control stick. The ship nosed upwards to about forty-five degrees pitch and corkscrewed up into the atmosphere.

Maureen grabbed the intercom microphone. "Don, we're climbing again! We need you back up here!"

"Will," West gasped, struggling up around the conduit, "you all right?"

"Yeah," Will answered, wincing and rubbing his elbow. "Just a little bruised. I think you'd better get topside and help with the flying. My Dad's not a pilot, you know."

Don grinned toothily and hauled himself out of the lower bay, noting the steep deck angle that showed the ship was arrowing upwards. "Oh, I don't know, he seems to be doing fine so far. We're going up, aren't we?" The ship suddenly performed a stomach-turning gyration. Will moaned as Don crashed sideways, rebounding off a side bulkhead. He caught himself before falling back down into the bay and threw a whimsical look upwards. "Jeez! Well, maybe he just needs a little help. Let's get out of here; mind your head!"

* * * *

The Jupiter, now once again under Major West's command, was rapidly and smoothly accelerating through the thinning, increasingly poisonous atmosphere of the planet. The sky darkened as bright stars began to show ahead, and the turbulence of their passage through the air faded way, leaving only the background throb of the engines. The family was clustered around the main viewport, watching transfixed as the vistas of space opened up to them.

West finally sat back in his chair in some satisfaction. "Okay, boss," he said, addressing Professor Robinson, who was in the copilot's seat next to him, and pointing at the control panel. "There it is. We have achieved minimum escape orbit. We'll be at our launch point in 15 minutes. The countdown clock is running; engine fire will be under the Robot's command. It all looks good."

"I believe your assessment is accurate," the Robot added to Don's report, swiveling towards them. "All orbital parameters are within calculated limits. Additionally, I have not detected any compromise of our structural integrity. There appears to be no damage from the boulder impact on our hull."

"Well, maybe you're right. But, once we're under way," Don said, scanning his panels, "I'd like to do a space-walk to have a look at the hull. That seemed to be a pretty good hit we took."

"Agreed." John said. "No time for one now, but we still have a few minutes before reaching our departure corridor. How about turning us so we can have one more look at our home for the past three years?"

"Is that really necessary?" Dr. Smith grumbled from where he was still sitting on his acceleration couch. "I for one certainly have no desire to set eyes on that dreary world ever again!"

"Well," West grinned wolfishly. "That's good enough reason for me. Here we go…coming about!"

Don tilted the control stick, and the Jupiter rotated smoothly on its vertical axis, spinning slowly like a plate on a balancing stick. He continued easing it around until the main viewport was three-quarters filled with the brownish mass of the planet below them. Bands of clouds covered the entire world in shades of browns, tans, and yellows. Shears in between the bands caused curls of vapor as the varying winds fought each other in the turbulent upper atmosphere. Even the frozen poles were covered in noxious smoke, and pinpoints of blackness seemed to mark the locations of the furiously belching volcanoes that were making the planet uninhabitable to human life.

The entire family, even Dr. Smith, who had finally joined them at viewport, stared at the world that had been their home for so long. It had been the scene of aliens, monsters, climate changes, battles for survival, food shortages, and emotional ups and downs. It had thrust them into unbelievable situations that tested their mettle and adaptability. Fear, anger, disagreement, irritation had come to them, even as there had been times of accomplishment, happiness, laughter, and whimsy. Their thoughts were as varied as the individual personalities of each person in the group, and not a word was spoken as they gathered around the main viewport, filling their eyes for the last time on the sight of Preplanus, the name they had given to this barren world.

"Good riddance to it!" Dr. Smith grunted, waving it off dismissively.

"Four minutes, and counting," the Robot called.

"You won't miss this place, Dr. Smith?" Penny asked, glancing up at him with a smile. "Hardly, my child!" Smith exclaimed. "Today my fondest wish is finally coming true. We are leaving this miserable world for the verdant pastures of Earth! Ah, words fail me…" He pressed his hands to his breast, smiling beatifically, lost in his own reverie.

"All right," West said, tilting the stick to the right, causing the ship to rotate. "Back to business. Adjusting ship orientation for escape vector." He brought the ship around again until only the stars of deep space showed in their window.

"Three minutes, and counting."

"Crosshairs are centered," Don said, releasing the stick to reach up and touch a button on the flight control panel. "Vector locked."

Maureen, who was standing behind John's seat, placed a hand on his shoulder. While concentrating on the flight panel, he nonetheless reached up to cover her hand with his.

"Two minutes, and counting," the Robot said. "Escape corridor approaching. Window is plus or minus point zero two second tolerance."

"What?" Smith blurted in a panic. "What? Point oh-two seconds? What happens if we miss it? We're going to miss it!"

Maureen put a finger to her lips and shushed the doctor, who looked considerably put upon, but said nothing more.

"One minute, and counting. Request engine control."

"You have full thrust authority," West confirmed, manipulating some switches, and then sat back in his pilot seat. "Ship orientation is locked. That's it, then; it's up to the Robot now." He turned his head towards the Robot. "Don't screw it up!"

"That is not possible," the Robot said indignantly. "I cannot miss. Thirty seconds."

"Don't be over-confident, you arrogant automaton!" Smith growled. "Stop cackling and pay attention to what you're doing! Concentrate!"

"Smith, quit your caterwauling!" Don snapped impatiently.

"Here we go!" Will said excitedly as the sound of building engine power began rattling loose panels on the flight deck.

The Robot spoke precisely. "Five, four, three, two, one, mark. Engine is at breakaway-rated thrust, trajectory control at maximum."

The view out the main window remained unchanged. It was filled with stars that appeared unmoving, although the engine was clearly at high power. Vibrations from the mighty star drive continued to shake the cabin. Judy and Penny were holding one another, bracing themselves against one of the bulkhead supports. Will was holding tightly to the back of Don's seat; Maureen remained behind John. Dr. Smith had moved over to grab one of the Robot's hoist hooks on the top of his torso and appeared to be holding on for dear life.

"Acceleration is on the curve," the Robot reported, his metallic voice oddly tinged with excitement. "Escape parameters are all in accordance with predictions."

"Speak English, you cackling conundrum!" Smith snarled. "Are we leaving this dreary place or not?"

"Affirmative. Twenty seconds to throttle-back."

The Jupiter continued surging ahead into the desolation of open space.

"Throttle-back now," the Robot announced.

The throbbing of the engine dwindled away into silence. The rattling within the cabin stopped; only the gentle background noise of the life support system moving air could be heard. The family all looked at each other uncertainly.

Major West had been focusing on one particular gage on the flight control panel during the whole time. Upon hearing the Robot's report, he smiled and sat back in satisfaction.

Smith, seeing his movement, released the Robot and turned, looking confused. "Did we make it? Did we leave orbit? What's happening? Is that it?"

"Engine power reduced to space normal rated thrust," the Robot stated. "De-orbit successful. Forward velocity sufficient to escape from planetary gravity well. Returning engine control authority to helm."

"Thanks," West said, reaching up and flipping a switch. "I've got it. Well, guys, we're on our way. Let's have another look behind us."

Grasping the control stick, West once more spun the entire ship about, turning the main viewport back the way they had come. "There, Smith," Don said, waving out the main viewport. "Is that better? Are you happy now?"

The disk of Preplanus was noticeably dwindling as the ship headed out of the star system. They were clearly moving at incredible speed and would soon leave the brown, desolate world far off in their wake, where it would soon become just another faintly glowing speck in space.

Will was already back at the navigation panel, twirling dials and flipping switches. He addressed the Robot. "Well, how does it look?"

"How does what look?"

"The navigation lock on Earth, silly."

"Assuming inputted data was accurate, the navigation lock is also reliable. We are on projected trajectory for Earth. Estimated time of arrival once final speed is achieved: eight months."

"Eight months…!" Smith cried indignantly. "Intolerable!" He addressed the Robot. "You, there! Find us a wormhole, or black hole, or some other hole, or something to get us there faster! Don't just stand there, you nattering nincompoop! Get to work!"

"Now, now, Dr. Smith," John chided wearily. "We've already been over this, and you know as well as all of us how long it's going to take to get home. There's no science fiction magic involved, and you can't change the laws of physics."

"But eight months," Smith complained. "That's still an eternity! Anything could happen out here in the vastness of space! We could run out of fuel! We could encounter hostile aliens bent on our destruction! Or," the wild look reappeared on his face, "we could run out of food! Or water! Oh, dear! Did anyone think of that?"

"Which is why most of you are going into the freeze tubes for the duration of this voyage to Earth," John observed. "Except for Maureen and myself, as we agreed."

"Aren't you and Mom going to be bored and lonely while we're all frozen?" Penny asked with exaggerated innocence that belied the mischievous twinkle in her dark brown eyes.

Professor Robinson and Mrs. Robinson smiled at one another, ignoring Penny's innuendo. "Well," John said, "as you know, since there aren't enough tubes for all of us with Dr. Smith here, one of us has to remain unfrozen. You mother has agreed to keep me company while I monitor and adjust the ship's systems during the transit." His face took on an theatrically naive look. "I suppose we'll just have to find something to do in our free time." He let out a grunt when Maureen slapped him playfully on the side of his head.

"Oh, knock it off, you two," West rolled his eyes.

"I am prepared to engage you in chess, Professor Robinson, to help pass the time," the Robot said helpfully.

"Very thoughtful of you," John observed dryly. Maureen covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle, stealing a look at Judy, who was also grinning.

"It would be my pleasure," the Robot answered politely, if obliviously, then returned to monitoring the navigation panel.

Maureen turned towards Judy and Penny, jerking a thumb towards the lower deck. "All right, ladies, let's get some food prepared. We'll make it a feast, a final pre-suspended-animation family dinner!"

"Sounds good," John nodded. "While you do that, Don and I will do some fine-tuning up here."

"Capital idea!" Dr. Smith exclaimed. "I shall retire to clean up for our meal!" He shouldered past the women to get to the lift before them.

"C'mon, girls," Maureen smiled, heading for the ladder as the cage for the lift closed around Dr. Smith.

"And let's not forget that space-walk," West added.

"You're like a big kid," John observed good humouredly. "Just can't wait to float around outside again now that we're back in space, can you?"

West's grin was answer enough.

22


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note to My Loyal Readers: Chapter 8 is about to begin, wherein I introduce a slight "detour" into the journey home. All the feedback has been very positive so far, and I greatly appreciate your kind words! Thank you so much…let's press on!

Lost in Space, The Return, Chap 8. The Alien

While there was no "day/night" in space, the family continued their custom of honoring daytime and nighttime hours, as indicated on the ship's clocks. It was now the "morning" of the next day following their escape from the planet. There was no sense of speed, but the Robot, as well as the other navigational instruments on the ship, showed that they were traveling nearly three-quarters of the speed of light, on a course for Earth. The Robot confirmed the lock on the Sun, and all other indications appeared to corroborate Will's earlier calculations.

Major West's space-walk around the Jupiter the day before had revealed no damage to the hull, other than a discolored gash on the side where the boulder thrown by the cyclops had struck, but fortunately, not penetrated. Professor Robinson had insisted that everyone get a good night's sleep prior to entering the freeze tubes, to which the children had naturally protested, since they pointed out that they would be sleeping for eight months. Of course, predictably, their protests were for naught, and they were hustled off to their cabins forthwith.

Breakfast that morning was a boisterous affair, affected by the high spirits of everyone on board. Will and Penny were arguing over what they were going to do once they arrived on Earth, and which of their many friends they were going to contact first. West and Judy were talking quietly to each other on matters that were extremely private, but clearly important, as evidenced by the way their heads were close as they spoke earnestly to one another. John was sitting at the table, scribbling on a clipboard with one hand while holding a cup of steaming coffee in the other. He occasionally threw a random question at Don with regards to various ship systems, maintenance, and other arcane subjects dealing with the management of the ship over the next eight months. These questions the Major answered curtly, then quickly dove back into his intense discourse with Judy. Dr. Smith merely continued to shovel food rapidly into his mouth, sporadically complaining about the quality of the scrambled eggs or pancakes and loudly extolling the virtues of a favorite breakfast hangout of his back on Earth. Maureen was busy at the galley stove, maintaining a brisk pace of pancake turning and artificial egg cooking. Everyone, with the exception of John and Maureen, had already donned their silver space suits for wear during their eight-month hibernation.

"I'm going upstairs," Will finally announced, breaking away from his conversation with Penny and dropping his fork and knife with a clatter that earned a disapproving scowl from his mother. "Dad, can I go upstairs and open the viewport shield doors?"

Professor Robinson had started a safety precaution, while in space, to close the titanium shield doors that covered the main viewport every night. He felt a little preventive caution was advisable while the family slept.

"I want to go, too!" Penny blurted, jumping to her feet. "I want to see space again before we go into the freeze tubes!"

John, looking vaguely startled from his musings over the clipboard, lowered his coffee cup and glanced vacantly at Will. "All right…"

Will leapt up, but Maureen restrained him with a word, waving a spoon at the two kids. "Will! Penny! Both of you can first clear the plates from the table, then you can go upstairs."

"Okay, Mom," they said in stereo, giggling to each other and gathering up their plates.

After both of them had removed most of the breakfast dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, they bolted for the ladder and vanished to the upper deck.

"Well, they're pretty excited today," Maureen commented, sitting down next to John with her morning cup of tea.

"They have every right to be!" Judy exclaimed, nestling into the crook of Don's shoulder. Their quiet talk appeared to be over. "This is a big day for them. When they awake from suspended hibernation, we'll be on Earth! Oh," she straightened her arms irritably, scanning the lines of her space suit. "I think these suits have gotten a little brittle in storage."

West stretched his arms over his head. "I think you're right. Mine feels like wrinkled aluminum foil against my skin. And, Doctor," he grinned at Smith, who froze in the act of stuffing some more pancake into his mouth, "I do believe that you have put on some pounds despite the so-called austerity of our diet!"

"_Austerity_?" Smith goggled at him in gargantuan amazement. "That, Major, is an exceptionally large word for a military man such as yourself. As hard as it is to account, I do believe your vocabulary may actually be improving. In any case, with regards to my figure," he waved his fork vaguely about his chest, "what you see here is a finely honed physique, made even more defined and vigorous by our long deprivations. It is simply a matter of good genes. As for this ridiculously tailored silver suit," he crooked a finger in the neck of his suit and pulled on it with a look of disgust, "it hardly provides a proper and dignified fit."

Don opened his mouth make a sarcastic rejoinder when the speaker over the table crackled alive.

"Dad! Mom!" Will's voice came over the intercom. "You guys need to come up here and look at this! Quick!"

"_That_ sounds like trouble," John noted, pushing his chair back and dropping the clipboard on the table, taking one more deep gulp of his coffee before slamming the mug down.

Everyone rose and headed for the lift except Dr. Smith, who watched the retreating backs of his companions in some bewilderment, his fork and knife poised over his diminishing helping of pancakes. "Where is everyone going?" he called after them. "The child has probably just spotted an oddly blinking star. Your food will get cold!" Shrugging when he received no response from anyone, he dove back into his breakfast.

Shortly, the family was gathered around the main viewport, their faces bathed in an eerie glow.

"That's what we saw when I opened the viewport!" Will proclaimed.

"What is it?" Judy whispered. "It's beautiful!"

Ahead, and spreading as far as their limited field of vision would allow, was a pulsing, multi-colored field of light, like a glowing cloud. Some stars could be seen, faintly, sparkling through the luminescence, but portions of the "cloud" were quite opaque. Tendrils of color streamed through the area like strokes from a paintbrush, and occasional faint flashes, like that resulting from embedded, but unseen, lightning, lit up the masses, casting contrasting shadows among the convoluted layers. Tall, stupendously immense pillars of gaseous material thrust up through the main body, and their tops were wreathed in domes of glowing matter. Size was difficult to judge by eye only, but what few clues there were indicated they were looking at an object that was light years in size. And, whatever it was, they were heading right into it.

"Robot!" John said, reaching for the control panel and flipping some switches. "Analysis! Scan that area ahead of us. What is it? A nebula?"

West dropped into the pilot's seat, while the rest of the family watched from behind the two men.

The Robot, who was still attached to the navigation console, swiveled slightly, rattling the cables that connected him to the console. "That is correct. It is a nebula, an interstellar cloud of charged particles, hydrogen gas, plasma, and dust. It is a breeding ground for stars, supplying much of the raw material for stellar formation. This one resembles a nebula as seen from Earth and known as 'The Pillars of Creation.'"

"Is there a danger to the ship?"

"Avoidance is recommended, but cosmic radiation levels are within the design limits of spaceship shielding."

"Well then, should we go around it?" Don asked, adjusting some thrust controls.

"Negative. I have tapped into the ship's sensor array and cannot detect the periphery of the nebula. I have extrapolated the data and I calculate the width of the nebula across our path is at least twenty light years. Height is indeterminate, but likely the same."

John stared into the depths of the nebula, the flickering light reflecting in his eyes. "Obviously, we don't have the fuel for that kind of detour."

"You know, if that nebula _is_ the Pillars of Creation, then that would place us more than 6,500 light years from Earth," Don observed.

"That can't be right," Will said, frowning. "We couldn't be that far from Earth. Could we?"

"No. I don't think it's the same," John waved towards it, then folded his arms thoughtfully. "But, then again, if it's another nebula that's closer to Earth, why can't we recognize it? It's got some pretty distinguishing characteristics. Something this prominent should be readily recognizable."

"Well," Don said, pointing at the fuel gages. "Here's the bottom line. We only have enough gas to go straight from point A--where we are right now--to point B--which is Earth. We don't have enough for a 20-light-year detour." He looked over at Professor Robinson. "We have to go straight through, unless you think safety is the overriding factor."

"Robot, how long do you estimate it will take us to go straight through?" John asked.

"The ship's limited sensors do not have the range to penetrate to the other side," the Robot said. "I cannot compute transit time. However, the extended exposure to expected interstellar radiation is not predicted to exceed safety parameters."

"I think he said it's safe," Don commented helpfully.

"All right, then," John said, straightening, spreading his hands resignedly. "We go through. Maintain course and speed."

"Steady as she goes, Captain," West boomed cheerily. "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!"

"And," Professor Robinson said slowly, "I think we should wait a bit before sending everyone into cryo-sleep. We need to evaluate this some more."

"A few days?" Maureen asked.

Robinson nodded. "At least. That will give us some time to perform some observations and experiments to find out what this is." He brightened. "This is a great opportunity to learn a little more about our universe and take our data back with us to Earth." He glanced over at his son, who was practically salivating with excitement. "Wouldn't you agree, Will?"

Will's eyes lit up like he had just opened up an especially desirable birthday present. "Yeah! I'll need my telescope, my radio receiver, my spectro-analyzer. I'm going to get some of my astronomy books to figure out what to do. This will be great!" He turned and ran for the ladder, quickly disappearing down into the bowels of the ship.

"That boy needs to get out more," Don commented with a chuckle.

* * * *

The days had turned into a week as the Jupiter probed deeper into the strangely churning nebula. Only the brightest stars could be seen occasionally through rifts in the gaseous cloud, and the ship seemed to be floating in a sea of luminescence that stretched into infinity. Will and Professor Robinson worked long hours together, compiling data on the nebula and feeding it into the Jupiter's library and data storage system. At their urging, West adjusted the ship's course by small degrees to take it closer to more interesting sections of the nebula while keeping a careful eye on their fuel consumption. Even the Robot got involved, coordinating sensor readings while monitoring the navigation and progress of the ship.

There was no mention from anyone about entering hibernation. The general acceptance was that it was put off indefinitely until they could learn more about the strange phenomenon they were traversing. No one seemed to mind, since the nebula offered a constantly changing panorama of light and darkness that was as beautiful to the artistically-minded in the family as it was intriguing to the scientifically-bent. The Robinsons spent many quiet hours in front of the main viewport, simply watching as the nebula unfolded an otherworldly spectacle of radiance and color before their wondering eyes.

Such was the case this night, one week after they had entered the nebula. It was late, and most everyone had gone to bed, except Don and Judy. The Jupiter was quiet and seemed to be ghosting silently through the glowing sea of radiance. The deck was awash in the ethereal illumination coming through the viewport; the normal deck lights had been dimmed for the night. The incandescence cast a surreal brilliance through the window that was reflected off the faces of Don and Judy, who were sitting side by side at the pilot control station, holding hands and simply looking outside. The Robot stood silently at the navigation console, seemingly absorbed in his own activities. However, the sensor paddles just below his bubble top occasionally turned discretely towards the two humans, as if he were drawn in spite of himself to see what they were about and understand the underlying currents flowing between them.

Judy sighed. "It's so beautiful. I feel like we're hovering in space, floating in a cloud of light."

"It is beautiful," Don agreed softly, giving Judy's hand a squeeze.

Another period of silence ensued. The Robot turned slightly towards the seated pair as if he was intending to speak, regarded them for a moment, then turned back and resumed his silent vigil of the Jupiter's systems. Suddenly, he spun back towards them with a rattling of cables, his arms snaking out of his torso and waving violently.

"Alert!" the Robot warbled. "Alert!"

Startled, Don and Judy sat up. "What! What is it?" Don asked, his eyes scanning the consoles for indications of problems.

"I have a sensor alert on a metallic object passing the port side of the ship at approximately two kilometers," the Robot said, retracting his arms with a clank.

"Object?" West asked. "What kind of object? How big is it? Where…?"

"The object is dead in space," the Robot added. "We are passing it. It is metallic and approximately 40 meters in length. Without further data, I cannot say exactly what it is, but it has the dimensions of a possible space vehicle."

Don was reaching for the controls for the ship's maneuvering controls. "To the left, you say?"

"Affirmative."

Sitting straighter in the seat, Major West fired small bursts from the ship's maneuvering thrusters, causing the saucer-shaped vessel to pivot slowly about its center without changing its course through space. A slight vibration could be felt through the structure of the ship as the thrusters fired.

Judy had stood up and was leaning over the forward consoles to get a better view. She suddenly pointed. "There! Something is there, silhouetted against the nebula. Do you see it?"

"I see something," Don agreed, squinting into the luminescence of the nebula. "Just looks like a dot at this distance. Will's telescope is over there near the Robot. See if you can see anything through it."

Judy turned and walked quickly to the side bulkhead, grabbing a medium-sized refracting telescope that stood there, its legs folded and the entire unit leaning against the wall. She brought it over to the helm, unfolded the tripod legs, and set it on the floor next to Don. She moved behind telescope, aimed the telescope by sighting through the finder on the top of the main tube, and then brought her eye into contact with the eyepiece of the telescope. She moved the main body of the telescope until a fuzzy object flashed into view and was gone.

"It's hard to get it," she grumbled, moving the telescope about and trying to capture the elusive object. "Darn it…almost had it…"

Don impatiently got to his feet. "Here, let me try…"

"No, wait, I think I've got it," Judy said, concentrating and waving him off. "Just a second…"

She slowly moved the telescope back until the object returned into the field of view, and she locked the mount. She adjusted the focusing wheel and the object resolved itself. "Wow!"

West was near to bursting with eagerness to snatch the telescope and see for himself. "Well?" he asked heatedly. "What do you see? What is it? Judy…?"

She pulled away abruptly from the lens and looked at Don. "The Robot is right! It's a spaceship!"

* * * *

The alien vessel was floating dead in space against the backdrop of the pulsing nebula. Triangular in shape, it had a rather conventional airplane design with stubby wings on either side and a tall fin at the back. There was a clear, smoothly faired dome on top near the front that would typically be the cockpit on a terrestrial airplane, and a cylindrical pod underneath the fuselage, connected to the ship by a thick pylon. There were curiously shaped nozzles at the back of the ship, clearly some sort of propulsion system, presently cold and dark. There were no markings or other identification on the gray surfaces that sullenly reflected the light from the nebula. The ship very slowly turned in space, presenting its top, bottom, sides, front, and back randomly. In all appearance, it was a powerless derelict.

"It can only mean us harm!" Dr. Smith warned querulously, his night cap bobbing ludicrously on his head, a blanket clutched protectively in front of him. He was wearing his customary white striped nightshirt that fell to just below his knees, and fur-lined leather slippers encased his feet. "We should put as much distance between us as possible! We have no business here! We must leave it be!"

Earlier, and after staring at the vessel through Will's telescope, Don had opened the intercom channel to John's cabin to summon the Professor to the flight deck. In the small ship, everyone was attuned to even the smallest commotion, and so Professor Robinson soon found he was leading Will, Penny, Maureen, and Dr. Smith up the ladder after they had all emerged from their cabins to see what the ruckus was all about. They were now clustered around the main viewport, staring at the ghostly, slowly revolving vessel.

After conferring with Professor Robinson and getting his approval, West had cautiously closed the distance between the two ships to within a few hundred yards, so the family had a clear view of the alien vehicle. The Professor was leaning over the control consoles, his face nearly pressed against the hardened glass of the viewport, his curiosity fully aroused.

"Whatever it is, it looks like a wreck," he commented, waving his hand in the direction of the ship and ignoring Smith's outburst. "Look at those black gashes on the sides and tail. Like it was burned or scorched with something."

"Or, like it was in a battle," Don added with professional interest. "That cylinder underneath might be a weapon of some sort. Looks almost like an old F-106 Delta Dart fighter."

"Is there someone inside?" Penny exclaimed abruptly, pointing. "Look in that canopy at the front! Someone's in there!"

The entire group leaned forward nearly as one. The ship was momentarily oriented in profile view as it rotated. The dome at the front of the ship was slightly transparent, and nebula light shone through it, highlighting a dark figure inside.

"By God, I think Penny's right!" Don agreed. He pointed at the ship. "Kind of looks like someone slumped over in that cockpit! What do you think, John?"

"Sensors are indicating weak life form readings," the Robot announced.

"Are the readings human?" John asked without taking his eyes off the slowly revolving ship.

"Indeterminate. Alien alloys in ship's hull prevent accurate assessment. But there is life in the vessel, very faint."

"Well of course it's an alien!" Smith exclaimed. "And, that's no Earth ship, so it can't be human! We have to…"

Professor Robinson straightened abruptly, interrupting him. "Don, suit up! We might have a rescue mission on our hands. You and I are going over there to check it out."

"Right," West agreed happily, surging out of the pilot's seat, brusquely pushing past Dr. Smith and heading for the equipment closet near the main airlock.

Aghast, Dr. Smith straightened, tossing his head. "What?! You're going to do what? This is absurd! We must resume our course for Earth _at once_! This is _none_ of our business!"

"Dr. Smith, someone may be in dire need of our help!" Maureen chided him, putting a hand on his shoulder as John strode off in West's wake towards the locker. "We can't just leave him floating helplessly out here. What if he's from Earth, on a search mission looking for us?"

"That is an alien spaceship, and therefore that must be an alien monster inside!" Smith asserted without hesitation. "It will come alive and destroy us all!"

"Maureen, give us a hand here," Professor Robinson called as he and Don began hauling spacesuit components from the closet and piling equipment on the floor.

"I must categorically protest!" Smith said, trailing Maureen to the locker, the tails of his nightshirt flapping ludicrously about his bare legs. "You should not go out there! If both of you are killed, there is no one else to pilot us to Earth!"

Maureen was helping John into his spacesuit. "You know, John, Dr. Smith may have a point."

Taken aback at suddenly finding an ally, Dr. Smith nonetheless looked hopefully at Professor Robinson. "See? Even your wife agrees!"

"We are going," John stated forcefully, clearly allowing no room for further discussion. However, he then seemed to take a mental step backwards and smiled down at his wife. "Don't worry, darling. We'll take the lasers, and if there's any sign of trouble, we'll high-tail it back here and blast off back on course for Earth. But, whoever that is, we just can't leave him out there, helpless, if he's still alive."

Maureen smiled back. "I certainly agree we can't just bypass someone who might need our help. I just wish you both didn't have to go."

"We're the most qualified," John added simply, shrugging into his suit and lifting the space helmet. "And I don't feel comfortable sending someone alone, whether it's me or Don. We just don't know what to expect out there, and having a backup seems prudent."

"But…" Smith started to argue.

"That's enough, Doctor," John said. "The decision is made. This is a potential rescue mission now."

Dr. Smith made an indignant harrumph, then turned and stomped off, heading for the lift to retreat into his cabin. "This will be the end of us, you'll see!" he mumbled to himself as the lift descended to the lower deck.

In quick time, both Professor Robinson and Major West were suited, sealed, and ready to go. Radio communications and oxygen checks were accomplished, lasers were strapped on their waists, and several coils of rope looped over their shoulders. They moved into the airlock, John gave Maureen the "thumb's up" signal, and she secured the inner door and began venting atmosphere into space. Once vacuum was established in the airlock, West touched a button to open the outer door. Reaching around outside the door, each spacewalker snapped his safety line to a hook set in the hull for that purpose, then stepped out of the airlock into the void of space.

It was always a severely disorienting sensation departing the artificial gravity field of the Jupiter for the immediate weightlessness of space. It was as if one stepped off a cliff and the inner ear registered a rapid fall, but the eyes actually sensed no movement. This sensory conflict induced a dizzying spatial disorientation and nausea that even veteran spacewalkers had to overcome. John and Don paused, floating just outside the airlock, their eyes fastened on the solidity of the Jupiter's hull as the complex sensations within their bodies settled out.

"You okay?" Don's voice crackled over the open suit-to-suit frequency, turning to face the Professor.

"Give me a second," John gasped. "Guess I've lost my space legs…"

"Just look at the ship until the vertigo goes away," Don said, holding John's arms to help stabilize him. "Take your time."

"I'm okay," John said, forcing his breathing to stabilize and waving off Don's help. "And we don't have a lot of time. Let's get on with it!"

Together, both men swiveled towards the derelict, and then ignited a controlled burst on their back-mounted maneuvering packs. There was a momentary flash of bright plasma from their rockets, and they started moving slowly towards the crippled vessel. They paid out their safety line behind them as they went, adjusting their trajectory with an arm mounted control pad.

Both men focused their efforts on controlling their path towards the derelict, but they both could not help looking about and marveling at the incredible beauty of the backdrop formed by the nebula. Silent flashes of unseen plasma occasionally lit up portions of the swirling mass in bizarre colors and stroboscopic irradiance. The drifting men even imagined they could hear thunder muttering through his headsets, in time with the flashing pulses lost somewhere deep in the nebula. Phosphorescent trails lanced occasionally through the shimmering clouds, as if created by unseen, speeding meteors. In spite of the knowledge that it was impossible, John nevertheless reached out a hand, to see if he could pass it through the star stuff and make a light trail of his own.

"Everything okay out there?" Maureen's voice came suddenly over the radio frequency into their headsets, breaking into their ruminations.

"No problem so far," Don transmitted. "Almost there." He swiveled around to look back at John, who was following closely. "Still all right back there?"

John raised a thumb's up signal while keeping his eyes on the approaching spacecraft. "Yes. Just fine."

Don looked over John's shoulder and smiled. Beyond the Professor, West could see the Jupiter 2, hovering silently in space with the background of the nebula behind it. The ship was perhaps fifty yards away, but he could still discern the individual faces of the people at the brightly illuminated viewport, all standing in tense, watchful attitudes. The knife-like edges of the saucer-shaped vessel reflected sharp points of light from the nebula, while the silver hull itself seemed to be ablaze with an internal light as the nebula lit it from all directions. The rotating pod light array underneath spun and flashed in sequence with the dome on top, all providing a comforting sense of stability and _home_ in the swirling otherworldly mists of the surrounding nebula. The ship was an extraordinarily clean design, and it looked every inch like it was at home in its alien surroundings. The sight never failed to take West's breath away, and he allowed himself a few moments to dwell on the engrossing view. One of the figures in the viewport lifted an arm and waved: it was Penny. Don waved jauntily back.

"Hey!" John called peevishly, pointing ahead. "Watch where you're going!"

Don grinned even more broadly, but rotated about to face the direction of travel.

"What do you see?" Maureen's transmission came over the radio.

The ship had rolled so its belly was towards them. "Now that we're closer, I can make out symbols or insignia on the bottom of the ship," John called, looking past West. "Can't see into the canopy yet…the ship has rolled away from us. Looks like lots of damage underneath. I see scorings, torn metal, and gashes. Can't tell if that means the hull is breached, but this doesn't look good."

"Well, be careful!"

John grinned wryly to himself. "Yes."

Using their braking rockets, the two men slowed their approach until they were hanging in space a few feet from the slowly rolling vessel.

"Where do we hook on?" Don asked, eyeing the heavily damaged ship.

"Let's see if we can make a grab for one of the wings as it comes towards us."

"Sounds good," Don said, "but how about if I do it alone, while you wait and keep an eye on me from here? Let me check it over, then give you the all clear to come in."

"That would be a wise approach, let's do it that way. Watch out for those jagged pieces of metal…they'll tear into your spacesuit to ribbons if you're not careful."

"Right. Here goes."

Timing the next burst from his maneuvering pack, Don started moving forward again, carefully watching the approaching left-side wing that was descending towards him. He reached it just as it was eye-level to him, and he grabbed on with an ungainly spin as the inertia of the alien craft transferred to him and twisted him around. He brought one booted foot down into a gouge in the leading edge of the wing to absorb his energy, grunting with the effort it cost. He ended up crouched in an awkward crab-like attitude, holding on with both hands and one foot.

"You all right?" John called, watching Don's acrobatics with some concern.

"All right? Yeah," Don said with a chuckle. "But I wouldn't win any contests as a circus performer." He looked up. Now that he was attached to the alien ship, it seemed like the entire universe was slowly spinning about him, while he and the ship were stationary. "I've got her now. I'm going to start working my way up to the top of the ship and see what I can see."

"Can you tell what's it made of?"

Don began moving slowly hand over hand down the leading edge of the wing towards the fuselage. "Not really. Feels like metal as near as I can tell through the space suit. Looks like it, too."

He arrived at where the wing joined the fuselage and then began working his way along the fuselage, carefully avoiding the ripped and gouged portions. It was slow going, and he tested each handhold and foot placement before moving on for fear he might nudge against some of the razor-sharp metal shards.

"This thing looks like it went through a meat grinder!" he grumbled over the radio. "If someone's still alive in here, he's one lucky son of a bitch…"

After a few minutes of wary progress, he finally arrived at the bulge atop the fuselage where the canopy was located. It was mostly transparent, but dark like it was tinted. Nevertheless, Don could see into the cockpit. Peering closely, he observed many instruments, levers, and handles, all set in unfamiliar patterns. None of the instruments showed any indications of life, and the interior was completely dark and lifeless. However, it was the singular figure sitting in the middle of the cockpit that attracted Don's immediate attention.

It was humanoid in form, with a head, torso, arms, and legs clearly apparent in the glow from the nebula. At first glance, Don thought the similarity to humans ended there, because the alien was rounded and thickly built, with a uniform, whitish skin that covered its entire form in segmented bands. In fact, it seemed the creature was either a shapeless, faceless, mound of flesh, or what Don was looking at was an outer cocoon or spacesuit, hiding the actual occupant within, which seemed more likely. Or, it could even be a robot or some other type of machine, there was just no way to tell through observation. The alien, if it was alive, was motionless and made no reaction to Don's presence. It simply sat there, its bulbous head slumped slightly forward.

"Well?" his radio came to life abruptly, startling him out of his concentration. "What the hell is going on over there? I can't see you anymore!"

West looked up and realized the rotation of the ship had taken him out of John's view. Neither the Professor nor the Jupiter was currently in sight. "I'm okay! There is a pilot in here. He looks like a cross between the Michelin man and a squashed marshmallow. There's no movement from him, or any indication he is aware of me. Whoa!"

In leaning closer to the canopy, Don had placed his hands on the transparent, curved surface, and the entire structure moved nearly two inches.

"What? What is it?" came John's voice.

"The canopy is unlocked!" Don called back, recoiling in surprise. "It's open to space!"

"I'm coming over," John said, already firing his maneuvering jets. "Stay there. Don't do anything else until I come around…"

"Okay, but watch yourself…there's sharp metal everywhere…"

"Yes, yes! Stay put."

After a few minutes of careful space jockeying, John joined Don at the canopy. Both men hovered over it, staring inside at the occupant. "What do we do now?" Don asked uncertainly.

"If that's a space suit," John mused, waving a hand in the direction of the creature, "then the alien might be protected from vacuum, if it's even still alive." He paused, inspecting the gap showing between the fuselage and the bottom of the canopy. "I don't see any attachment points. What say we try to lift this thing?"

"It moved pretty easily when I accidently bumped it before," Don answered. "I'll give it a go. Can you brace me?"

While the Professor gripped a protuberance on the vessel and held onto Don's shoulder, West reached down, curled his fingers under the canopy and lifted cautiously, expecting some resistance. Instead, the canopy came completely free and floated away, tumbling off into space.

"Well, that was easy," Don observed dryly, watching it go. "It was like it wasn't even attached. Maybe the pilot tried to get out and something malfunctioned." He turned back to John. "What are you doing?"

John had leaned down into the cockpit, bringing his own faceplate close to the "face" of the alien. Staring intently at it, he reached towards the face and ran a gloved finger over it. Fine white crystals, disturbed by his hand, drifted away in a small cloud. Underneath, there was a clear surface, much like glass. Reaching for his belt, John unhooked a flashlight, turned it on, and shined the beam into the clear surface.

He found he was staring into a face. The eyes were closed, and he could clearly discern a nose and mouth. The features, while exotic in an unexplainable way, had enough similarities that John would have classified the creature as mostly human.

"I can see him," John reported. "There's a person inside; this white cocoon must be a space suit. He looks human, but I can't tell if he's…"

The eyes opened.

Pulling back in shock, John cried, "It's alive!"

Reeling backwards, he bumped into Major West, who had been looking over his shoulder, and sent the pilot tumbling head over heels. Grabbing hastily for his maneuvering controls on his arm, West hit his auto-stabilization switch, let the rockets fire automatically until his gyrations subsided, then jetted back to Professor Robinson's side.

"Sorry," John said, releasing a deep breath that rattled his helmet-mounted microphone. "Just a bit of a shock. Look!"

The alien had languidly raised an arm and gestured feebly, whether in greeting or acknowledgement of their presence, they could not tell. The arm fell back to where it was, and the creature made no further movement.

"I heard everything!" Maureen's voice came over the radio circuit. "If he's hurt, we need to help him! We can see you now!"

John looked past the alien vessel. He realized he could now see the reassuringly familiar saucer of the Jupiter rising majestically beyond the fuselage of the alien ship as the rotation brought it around. Because of the irregularity of the rotation, the Jupiter now appeared to be standing on its side like a dinner plate balancing on one end.

"We can't help him here," Don said, "but I don't know how safe it is to bring him into our spaceship, for him or us."

"I can hear you."

"I know you can hear me," Don said in some puzzlement, looking at John. "Why? Are you having radio problems?"

"I didn't say anything," John declared. "I thought that was you."

"Well, it wasn't me!"

John and Don stared at each other.

"What's wrong?" Maureen's voice broke in over the radio. "Are you having communication problems?"

John glanced upwards towards the ship. "No, ah…"

"_I_ can hear you," the voice came again, a distinctly male voice with an unidentifiable accent.

"Who is this?" John called uncertainly, but he turned to face the cocooned form in the ship. He shined his flashlight into the creature's face; the eyes glittered back at him from underneath the clear covering.

It raised a hand weakly, as if waving off the light. "Too bright…" it said, and John lowered the flashlight beam. "I am hurt," the voice continued. "I have been adrift for a long time. Life is spent. Battle is ended."

"How is he on our frequency…?" Don began, but John waved him off.

"How can we help you?" John asked the alien.

"Air is nearly depleted," came the sluggish response. "Not long now."  
"Do you need air?" John said. "I have a ship nearby. We can take you there."

A response came over the radio, but it was unintelligible.

Don broke in. "Ask him what kind of air he needs."

Robinson moved closer. "Friend! We can get you to a place with an atmosphere. What do you need? Our air is composed of 21 percent oxygen, 78 percent nitrogen, and a little carbon dioxide, argon, neon, and water vapor. Are these poisonous to you? Do you recognize these gases? Can you hear me?"

There was no answer.

Robinson moved closer, trying to see through the creature's faceplate. "Can you hear me?" He could barely make out the face, but the eyes were closed again.

He watched the creature's lips move slightly. "Air, oxygen, nitrogen…"

"He's fading," Don noted quietly. "If we're going to do something, we need to do it pretty quick."

John leaned up, looking towards the Jupiter, where it hovered above them now as the slow rotation of the alien vessel continued, bringing them around.

"Maureen, we're going to try a rescue," John transmitted.

"No, you fools!" Back on the Jupiter, Dr. Smith had not progressed far to his cabin before his curiosity compelled him to rejoin the family at the viewport. He pushed around Judy for a better look. "What are they doing out there? Let the alien die!"

Maureen turned away from the viewport and regarded him. "That creature needs our help! He's intelligent! We can't just leave him to die!"

"Yes, we most certainly can!" Dr. Smith asserted vehemently. "Survival of the fittest. We have no idea what that thing is! If we bring him aboard, he will destroy us all! Why, what if he harbors disease? We could all die from some alien virus!"

"Mom," Penny said fearfully as everyone paused thoughtfully. "Could Dr. Smith be right? Could we die from some disease if we bring him on board?"

"Nothing has happened when we met other aliens before this," Will reflected out loud. "I think we should help him!"

Maureen looked uncertainly back at the derelict. "There's always some danger," she said, as if to herself. "It comes with the territory."

"Now, Mrs. Robinson," Smith continued, taking on an appeasing tone. "We would be endangering ourselves needlessly. Think of your children! Anything else would be folly on a monumental scale, a travesty of the survivor's instincts! This entire harebrained scheme to bring _it_ on board should be put to a vote, and I vote _NO_! As you all should. And you, you unspeakable insult to machines everywhere!" He hammered on the Robot's side. "Say something! Tell them about the danger!"

The Robot swiveled. "I have no data on any current danger from the life form."

Smith's eyes went wide in astounded exasperation. "Why you tin-plated traitor! You're always wailing about _danger_ this, _warning_ that. Well, _this_ danger is clear enough, and you prattle on about insufficient data! I'll pull your transistors out by the roots!"

Maureen, tuning out Dr. Smith's tirade, glanced back out the viewport to see John and Don already at work extricating the alien. She raised the microphone as if to say something, paused, then lowered it again.

"Madam!" Smith cried in dismay, watching the gesture. "I must insist you advise them to stop!"

Maureen set her jaw and said nothing.

Meanwhile, at the alien vessel, Don was feeling around the seated alien. "There's no restraining belt I can find. What's holding him in?"

The alien pilot moved a hand weakly towards a lever and brushed ineffectively at it. West watched the movement intently.

"Go ahead," John encouraged.

Don reached around and pulled on the lever. When nothing happened, he pushed it forward. It slid smoothly to a stop. The alien then raised his arms in a curiously child-like gesture as if he wanted to be lifted.

"I'll bet he's free now," John said. "Grab one arm and I'll take the other."

Carefully, they pulled the alien from the cockpit, watching out for sharp edges and projections.

"He's clear," Don called. "Let's turn him towards the Jupiter and get going."

After checking that their safety lines had not fouled on the derelict, the two men flanked the alien and maneuvered away. They used their jets to stop the relative motion that had been imparted on them by the rotating derelict so they could directly approach the stationary Jupiter. Once clear of the ship, they began reeling in their lines, adjusting the rate to provide a controlled, slow closure with the hovering Earth vessel.

"Are you all right?" John asked. There was no transmission from the inert alien. Due to their line abreast formation, he was unable to turn sufficiently to see into the alien's faceplate. "What is your name?" Still no answer. He could sense no responsive movement from the creature. "Don, we'd better hurry."

"I know."

After several minutes, they reached the side of the Jupiter. The round window adjacent to the airlock door was filled with the faces of Will, Penny, and Judy, who keenly watched the approach of the threesome. As soon as they arrived, Robinson actuated the outer airlock door, which slid noiselessly aside, providing them access to the brightly lit airlock. They wrestled the ungainly form of the alien inside, unfastened their safety lines, and then squeezed inside as well.

"We're all inside, barely. Tight fit in here," John reported. "Closing outer door. Door shows secure, beginning pressurization cycle. How's it looking in there?"

"Everything's in the green," Maureen verified, watching the airlock status readouts at the side of the inner door. "Good seals, no leaks, good gravity. You'll be normal atmosphere in twenty seconds."

"Is Smith there?" John inquired tensely while they waited. "We may need his skills."

Maureen watched through the port on the inner lock door. "He's here," she answered, glancing uncertainly at Dr. Smith, who hovered, fuming uncertainly, nearby.

"Cycle complete," Maureen called out after a few more seconds. "Normal atmosphere and gravity confirmed. I'm opening the inner lock door…get ready, guys."

She punched a button and the inner airlock door slid open with a hiss. Don lurched out first, dragging the limp form of the alien, while John pushed from the other side. They laid the alien on the floor, then straightened as Maureen began helping John out of his helmet, and Judy attended to Don.

Seals hissed as Maureen undid the clasps of the helmet, and, as soon as she lifted it off, John was speaking. "We've got to get that space suit off him."

The entire family had gathered around the mysterious, distended form on the deck of the ship. Arms, legs, and head were identifiable, but they were completely encased in what appeared to be a segmented white balloon. Only the faceplate, below which showed a vague face lost in shadow, broke the uniformity of the surface.

"How?" Will asked, bending over the alien. "I don't see any latches or zippers."

"How do you think he got into it?" Penny asked, giving the fabric of the alien's cocoon a tentative pinch.

"Don't touch that," Maureen warned protectively, pulling both children away.

Don, pulling off his gloves and tossing them away, knelt down beside the alien. "There's gotta be some way to get it off." He brushed more of what appeared to be fine ice crystals away from the faceplate. "Looks like he's unconscious. Or dead…"

Judy laid Don's helmet on the floor. "Maybe it has to be cut off?"

"You fools!" Smith ranted, staring down at the prone form. "This creature has no business being on our ship…he'll kill us all! Or, we'll kill him if we open up that suit and he can't breathe our air…!"

Ignoring Smith's outburst and quickly examining the prostrate form, Professor Robinson pulled and prodded, then said, "I think Judy may be right, we might need to…"

At that moment, there was a loud "pop" from the alien, and the entire cocoon jerked slightly. Startled, Don flung himself away from the spaceman and struck Judy, who staggered into Dr. Smith, sending him reeling, arms flailing, as if to protect himself. John fell awkwardly onto his backside, preventing himself from tumbling over completely backwards by wildly throwing his arms behind him. Will and Penny jumped away in alarm; Maureen leaped back, her hands shielding her face.

Black lines had appeared on the alien's spacesuit from the top of his head to his crotch, and down each arm and each leg. Struggling upright and looking closely, Professor Robinson saw that they were in fact cracks in the suit. However, they were uniform in size and length, as if designed that way.

"Don, give me a hand here," he said. "I think the suit is open."

"Scared the crap out of me," Don griped in annoyance, leaning forward to assist. "Did you do that?"

"No," John said, trying to force his fingers into the cracks. "Maybe some automatic mechanism in the suit itself causes it to open in the presence of atmosphere…"

"Or, maybe he did it himself!" Will said, pointing at the alien.

"Are you sure we should be opening his suit?" Don asked tentatively.

"No!" John exclaimed angrily. "Now, pull!"

By pulling from either side, the two men found that the cocoon pulled apart easily, as if on hinges, although it did give off an unpleasant, organic ripping sound that caused Dr. Smith to squawk in squeamish dismay. As John and Don pulled the cocoon open, the rest of the Robinsons all gathered closer to get their first glimpse of the alien creature that lay inert on the floor in the remains of the suit.

He was very human in appearance. About average height for an adult, his arms, legs, torso, and head were all proportional and familiar. He was dressed in what appeared to be a fabric jumpsuit, completely black, that covered him from neck to foot. Gloves of the same material enclosed his hands. His face, while human, had an exotic quality that gave him an other-worldly cast. The oddly slanted eyes were further apart than usual, the nose slightly elongated, the lips thinner and cast in a bluish tinge. The cheekbones were high and aristocratic, giving the alien a regal bearing, thoroughly pleasant to the eye. Thick, black, straight hair covered his head, extending down over his ears. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell with regular breathing.

Professor Robinson had extended a hand to feel the alien's chest. "He's breathing," he confirmed, "and I can feel a heartbeat. He sure seems human. Smith! Get over here and do something!"

"He looks kind of human, and kind of not," Penny observed, leaning closer. Her tone changed to wistful and dreamy. "He's kind of handsome in his own way."

Will snorted derisively, and Penny pushed at him in annoyance.

"Children," Maureen warned.

Dr. Smith had come over haltingly at John's command, but he was still holding back. "He's an alien! There's nothing I can do for him. I think he may be dead already!"

"I guess our air is okay for him," West commented, kneeling on the floor opposite John. "He doesn't seem to be in any distress. Smith! Get down here and examine him; he's still alive but may not be for long if this air is poisonous to him!"

"He could have other injuries," Maureen said, bending over the prostrate form. "Doctor, could you please have a look…?"

"Look!" Judy exclaimed, pointing.

The alien was stirring slightly. He tremulously lifted an arm and reached for his forehead, covering his still closed eyes and massaging his temples in a comfortingly human gesture.

"Can you hear me?" Professor Robinson asked gently.

"Yes."

The voice, no longer garbled by electronics, was deep and authoritative. Even Dr. Smith seemed reassured enough to approach more closely, staring down with interest at their guest.

"How do you feel?"

The hand lifted away from his head, and he opened his eyes, squinting against the bright ceiling lights. "Better." He looked about him in some bewilderment, seeing the group standing around him in a circle. "Who are you?"

"I'm Professor John Robinson, and you're aboard our vessel, the Jupiter 2. We are from a planet called Earth."

"Earth?" the spaceman repeated vaguely. "Where is that...?"

"Who are you?" West asked.

"This is ridiculous," Maureen suddenly interrupted testily, wagging a finger at West and the Professor. "John, we have a guest on board and we leave him lying on the floor! Where are your manners? Will!" she snapped.

Will jerked guiltily like a puppet on a string.

"Go to the galley at once and get some water and one of the spare oxygen bottles. Penny!"

Her daughter similarly stiffened as Will dashed for the ladder.

"Pull that chair over here. John, help me get him out of that suit and onto his feet." Both the Professor and West scrambled up as Penny grabbed the chair, everyone elbowing aside or pushing past a distracted Dr. Smith.

Maureen came down on one knee, bending down and laying a hand on the alien's shoulder. "Sir, are you hurt in any way? Can you stand?"

He looked up into Maureen's eyes, also appearing startled. "Well, yes, I believe so. If someone could help me…"

With Professor Robinson taking one arm, and Don the other, they assisted the alien up and out of the cocoon. Penny dragged over one of the ship's deck chairs, and John and Don guided the alien, still unsteady and weak, into the seat.

"Thank you," he said, dropping heavily into the chair. "I beg your pardon; I'm still feeling a little shaky after my ordeal."

"We'd like to talk about that," the Professor said, dragging another chair close and sitting down. "But first, what do you need? Are you hurt? Is this atmosphere all right for you? What about the temperature…?"

The alien waved distractedly. "I'm fine. The air in my ship was getting low, that's all. This feels fine to me, and I'm feeling better already. You said something about oxygen and nitrogen? That's good." The alien was breathing deeply, but apparently in no other distress.

John watched him carefully. "As I said before, I am Professor John Robinson, commander of an Earth deep-space colonization mission. What is your name?"

"I am Ordin." He looked at the Professor. "And you say you're from Earth? Where is that? What are you doing here?" He looked around at the Robinsons all gathered around.

John smiled amicably. "Well, that's a rather long story. But first, permit me to introduce my family."

Ordin acknowledged the names of everyone as John presented them.

As he finished, Will rose up on the lift, bearing a glass of water and a green-colored oxygen cylinder. Maureen took the water from him.

"Here," Maureen said, taking the water from him and offering it to Ordin. "This is water." She stopped herself uncertainly. "Can you _drink_ water…?"

Ordin eagerly took the glass. "Yes, I can, and thanks." He drained the glass, and then held it out to Will. "Another. I feel very dehydrated from floating in space for many days."

"Sure!" Will grinned, dropping the oxygen bottle with a clang, and ran back to the lift.

"Bring a pitcher with you, Will!" Maureen called as he descended once again to the lower deck. She picked up the oxygen bottle and offered it to Ordin. "This is pure oxygen. Would it help?"

He waved it off. "No. I'm already feeling vastly recovered."

"Do you feel up to telling us what happened to you?" Professor Robinson asked.

"Yeah!" Don added. "It looked like you were in quite a battle with something."

Ordin looked about him at his audience, all of whom were intently listening. "I was in a battle," he affirmed, "and was left for dead." He took a deep breath as Will arrived and handed him another glass of water. "And, as you said, my tale is also a 'long story'. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Only if you feel up to it, of course!" Maureen answered, pulling up a chair for herself. "We are explorers and scientists, seeking knowledge. Please go on if you feel you can!"

"Tell us your story, and we'll tell you ours!" Judy added, sitting next to her mother.

Ordin took another sip. "Very well. I will begin."

Ordin said was a combat pilot--which instantly peaked West's attention--from the planet Alcandria, a nearby world orbiting a star in the depths of the nebula. The nebula he called the Clouds of Ariana, while Orpheus was the name of the star giving light and warmth to his world. Also orbiting Orpheus was a planet called Selesia. Selesia was a heavily populated world, ruled with an iron fist by one Shon-KonDar. This tyrant, some years ago, not satisfied with simply being the supreme king over an entire planet, claimed to be the physical incarnation of the Creator of the Universe, and demanded worship and slavish obedience from his oppressed people. With the certainty of his own divinity, he had proclaimed that Selesia, as the home of a god, was therefore also the center of the universe. As such, he decreed that it was necessary for his followers to spread out into the universe to "enlighten" those who were ignorant of his god-head and convert them to the one true religion. All civilized worlds would be gathered under his "beneficent" rule until he alone ruled the entire universe, which he would do for all eternity, since he was, of course, immortal.

The first stop on the everlasting crusade to bring the universe under Shon-KonDar's rule was to absorb the closest world, which was Alcandria. Alcandria, in the next most distant orbit around the star, was a quiet, peace-loving world of mystics, thinkers, and philosophers. It was a very progressive and enlightened world, ruled by an intellectually advanced parliament of scholars. It also had a profoundly detailed system of thought--some called it a religion--rooted in tradition that was centuries old. However, as advanced as it was in the realm of the mind, Alcandria was physically ill-prepared to repel an invasion of millions of Selesians who had been whipped into a frenzy of imperialism by their god-king ruler. Using great ships to cover the distance between the orbits of their two worlds, the Selesians invaded with huge armies and spaceships bristling with weapons. The invaders swept aside the minimal resistance given by Alcandria's small standing defense force and immediately established themselves as rulers of a shocked and outraged world.

For a short time, the Selesians moved quickly to allay the fears of the Alcandrians who suddenly found their world taken over by militaristic invaders. The Selesians maintained order by promising great improvements to Alcandria's infrastructure and assuring the Alcandrians that they would be free to continue their lives as they had before. The Selesians even brought in engineers and scientists on the heels of the invading army, and the Alcandrians found themselves to be well treated initially by the occupying force. However, only a few months later, the Selesian true colors were quickly revealed as cherished institutions were ruthlessly torn down, the Alcandrian parliament was disbanded, and the people found themselves at the mercy of brutal occupiers who were interested only in absorbing the Alcandrians into the oppressive totalitarian regime of the megalomaniacal Shon-KonDar. Treasured works of art and culture were looted and carried off to Selesia, temples were burned or razed, the intelligentsia was imprisoned, and all who offered the slightest criticism or resistance to Selesian ways were arrested, taken away, and never seen again. Groups of courageous protestors who gathered to express their views in spite of Selesian prohibitions were cold-bloodedly mowed down in the streets by heavily armed soldiers who showed no compunction at wholesale slaughter. The minions of Shon-KonDar ruled without mercy even while their ruler himself was already considering the next move in his mad drive to bring the entire universe under his divinely ordained rule.

However, while it was a world composed of thinkers and philosophers, Alcandria was not one to meekly submit to an illegitimate and oppressive rule. Years had passed, but the Alcandrian people, while paying lip-service to the customs and rules of Selesia, still preserved the ancient culture and values of the Alcandria of old. Not only that, but they had an active resistance movement that had taken on the characteristics of an institution, with a guerilla army and a force of space-faring fighter craft capable of inflicting heavy damage on Selesian lines of supply and transportation.

Ordin told the Robinsons he was a pilot in an organization called the Sons of Orpheus, named after their star, which was the formal arm of the resistance movement that sought to oust Selesia from Alcandria and re-establish it as an independent world. Ordin had been involved in a furious pitched space battle some days ago, when forces from Alcandria met a large armada from Selesia in the void between the orbits of the two worlds. The Alcandrian force had been thoroughly annihilated, but only after a sustained battle that caused great damage to the fleets of spacecraft from Selesia. Ordin himself had accounted for several kills, but his ship had sustained critical damage that left it unable to maneuver. Nearly powerless, his vessel floated clear of the battle zone while the fight moved on past him into the nebula, and his calls for help went unanswered. So, he remained in his slowly tumbling spacecraft for several days, sustaining himself on what few provisions were left in his cockpit and tortured by thoughts of a lingering death in the silence of the pulsing nebula.

"And then," Ordin concluded, "I woke from unconsciousness to find you, Professor Robinson, wiping the ice crystals from my face plate and staring at me. I did not know what to think but was certain I was having a hallucination brought on by oxygen starvation."

He sat back and gazed at the family, who had been listening with rapt attention. For some moments, no one said anything, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, John leaned back in his seat; the springs in it creaked softly.

"That was an extraordinary story," he said, steepling his fingers, his elbows on the arm of the chair. "But, aside from your amazing survival, you're telling me that we are close to two warring planets somewhere in this nebula?"

"I would not call it a war," Ordin mused, "because Selesia has already taken us over. But the resistance fight continues, and we will never surrender our spirit or our desire for freedom."

"There's nothing on our sensors," Major West said. He looked over at the Robot, who had been watching silently. "Robot, you're not detecting planets in range, are you?"

"Negative," the Robot answered. "There are no planet-sized bodies in range of sensors. However, the radiation and spatial disturbances from the nebula are affecting the quality of the signals I am getting. It is possible planetary bodies in our area may be undetected until we are closer."

"Now you tell us," Don grumbled irritably, casting a glance out the main viewport window. "There are planets out there we can't see, along with fleets of battling spaceships, and we've just been sailing along happily thinking we're all by our lonesome. That's not a comforting thought."

"What I'm a little more concerned with," John said, his brow furrowed, "is that we seem to have blundered into the middle of an interplanetary war, we're lost in this nebula, and we have no way to defend ourselves."

A somberness settled over the group as they digested this piece of information.

"I'll tell you what we need to do!" Dr. Smith declared, who had been leaning on a bulkhead nearby, arms crossed. "We need to resume our interrupted journey to Earth at once! This so-called war is no business of ours. The sooner we proceed on our way, the quicker we can put some distance between us…and them!" He eyed Ordin hostilely, then leaned forward with exaggerated politeness. "No offense, sir."

Ordin regarded Smith impassively, took another drink of water, and then set the glass deliberately on the floor. When he straightened, his gaze returned to the Professor. "Your Dr. Smith makes a good point. This _situation_ between Alcandria and Selesia is not your battle, and, if what you say is true, you have no weapons to defend yourselves. It would be folly of an extreme sort to get involved. Dr. Smith is correct: this is not your fight, nor your business."

"See!" Smith blurted in surprised delight. "He even agrees with me! He is truly an enlightened creature. We must…"

"Hey, we don't run from a fight!" Don interrupted hotly, glaring at Dr. Smith.

"Now, Don," John placated, raising a hand. "Ordin didn't mean that. And, in this case, I also think Dr. Smith has a valid opinion."

Dumbfounded, Dr. Smith merely goggled happily, his shock supreme at being defended when he expected only the usual put-downs.

"However," Ordin continued carefully, straightening in his chair and staring intently at the Professor, "it _is_ still _my_ fight. I must find a way to return to my world as soon as possible to continue the battle against our oppressors. It is my duty, as I'm sure you can understand." He paused. "Would it be possible for you to return me to Alcandria before you continue your journey to this planet called Earth?"

Dr. Smith opened his mouth, clearly about to voice a protest, but Professor Robinson forestalled him by holding up a finger. "Just a moment, Doctor." He looked away in thought; everyone's eyes on him. "Aside from some other problems, it would depend how far away your planet is. We have been on a direct course to find our own world, and we are constrained by our fuel supply. A search would have to be very limited, and any detour, very short. I'm not sure we could do that."

Ordin watched him. "I doubt I could have strayed very far from my system. We were approximately mid-way between the orbits of both planets when we attacked the Selesians, and I doubt I would have drifted far." When John said nothing, Ordin continued hopefully. "The navigation equipment on my vessel was still operational before I had to shut it down to conserve power. If I can get it powered back up, it should be an easy matter to fix Alcandria's position and plot a course. At that point, we can see whether a detour is possible for you. In fact," he leaned forward eagerly, "it might only be necessary to get me close so I could be picked up by one of my own ships, and you could continue on your way without even getting close to Alcandria. And, you would find out where Selesia was, so you could give it a wide berth on your way out of our system."

When the Professor said nothing, Maureen rose to her feet. "John? A word, please?"

"Excuse us," John said to Ordin, rising and following his wife towards the helm at the viewport.

When they were out of earshot, John smiled down at his wife. "Darling, I know what you're going to say…"

Maureen spoke softly, the coruscating light from the nebula coming through the viewport and illuminating one side of her face. "We can't take him with us to Earth, and you know that. It would be so wrong on so many levels. It would be like kidnapping him and carrying him far from his home!" Her gaze seemed to harden slightly. "How would _you_ feel if you were taken away from _us_ simply because it was convenient for your rescuers? We'd never know if you were alive, or dead, or injured…"

John just watched her, a slight smile playing around the corners of his lips, a gesture which did not escape Maureen's observation.

"We have to help him, if we can," she continued with firm conviction in her voice. "At least, let's find out more before we give an answer. If we don't have the fuel, then that might be another question, but I don't think we're there yet. Maybe Alcandria is a short distance away, or maybe one of the ships from his fleet is looking for him, or…"

He placed a finger gently on her lips, silencing her. "Easy. I'm thinking the same as you. All right, let's pursue this a little more. But…!" he raised his finger. "The safety of this family comes first, and I reserve the right to make a decision based on that alone, if necessary. Do you agree?"

Maureen's lips curled upwards into that devastating smile of hers, the same one she often used when she knew a battle was won. "I agree."

"All right, then. Come on."

All eyes were on them as they rejoined the group. John's arm was around Maureen's waist, clearly signifying they were of one mind in the matter. John's eyes scanned his family before settling on Ordin, who watched him expressionlessly but with a certain underlying tension.

"Ordin," he said, speaking slowly, "explain how we would go about finding your planet."

Ordin' face broke out into a broad smile.

38


	9. Chapter 9

Lost in Space, The Return, Chap 9. The Search for Alcandria

Ordin proved himself to be as affable and pleasant a guest as he appeared when he was first brought aboard the ship. That night at dinner in the galley, he regaled the family with stories of his home world, their trials and tribulations, and his rapid rise through the ranks of the Sons of Orpheus to become an air and space fighter pilot. He was a veteran of many battles and an experienced pilot, and he and Major West discussed many aspects of flight, comparing and contrasting their respective civilizations' theories of propulsion, tactical maneuvers, atmospheric aerodynamics, and spaceflight. Professor Robinson picked his brain for the prevalent scientific theories and discoveries of his world, fascinated with the knowledge and accomplishments of a world completely alien and apart from Earth. Maureen and Judy asked probing questions about Alcandrian society and culture. Both Will and Penny plied him with questions and listened intently to his descriptions of the mountains and snows, oceans and islands, forests and grasslands, and shimmering cities that sent glittering spires and towers lancing towards skies that were never completely dark. Even Dr. Smith, in spite of his misgivings at having the alien on board, entered into the conversation by arguing with Ordin over which society--Earth or Alcandria--was superior in the field of medicine. The party lasted far into the night, until finally everyone retired to their cabins, tired but immensely satisfied with the evening and their new guest. Ordin himself reclined on an acceleration couch Maureen made up into a bed for him on the upper deck, with his profuse thanks.

The next day, following breakfast, the entire family was once more gathered around the main viewport. West, using tiny bursts from the Jupiter's thrusters, maneuvered the ship to within ten feet of Ordin's fighter and parked it there, ignoring Smith's huffy jibes that he was just showing off for the Alcandrian's benefit.

"Piece of cake!" West grinned, sitting back in the pilot's seat. "A walk in the park." Ordin looked slightly baffled at the expression.

"The walk in the park is next," John said, clapping Don on the back. "You two better get going."

After fitting Ordin in one of the spare spacesuits from the Jupiter's equipment locker, West and Ordin, both burdened with safety lines, jet packs, and substantial tool kits, exited the ship and space-walked the short distance over to the Alcandrian's fighter. There, the two of them worked for over an hour to extract Ordin's sensor pack, which, when it was finally removed, looked like nothing so much as a large, black, featureless football.

"This is it?" Don transmitted doubtfully over the radio, holding the two-foot long unit in his gloved hands and examining it closely in the shimmering light from the nebula. He could see his helmeted head reflected with odd distortions in the mirror-like surface. "How does this thing work? There are no wires, buttons, or switches on it."

Ordin was finishing putting tools back in his bag, making a successful grab at a wrench that nearly spiraled out of his reach. "Pressure sensitive," he explained, stuffing the errant wrench into the toolkit. "Just have to know how and where to touch it. The readouts will appear on the surface."

"Okay," West answered doubtfully. "But I sure have no idea how we're going to get this thing to work on our ship's power, or even where to plug it in."

"The unit is self-contained and will work on whatever local power is available within range," Ordin explained, waving a hand vaguely over the unit. "It taps directly from the source…you don't have to 'plug it in' to anything."

"Okay, if you say so. As long as you know where the on/off switch is, I'm happy." He turned towards the Jupiter, floating nearby. He took the unit in one hand and raised it over his head and behind him, like he was going to throw it. "Hey, John, go long!"

Inside the ship, the Professor raised the microphone. "Very funny. Just bring it over here, Major."

"John's not much into sports," West commented dryly to Ordin, who simply stared back at him, bewildered. "Never mind. Here you go. Let's just lug it over to the Jupiter."

Ordin took the navigation unit and thrust it into a pack secured to his side. Turning, the two negotiated the short distance to the Jupiter, the ship looming largely in comparison to the small one-man vessel. As they approached, Don gave the visible parts of the ship a fast once-over, satisfied the travel-worn and tested vessel was still the faithful workhorse it always was. Arriving at the side of the ship, Don gave the hull a fond pat before stepping into the airlock.

After both men were through the outer airlock door, they closed it and waited while the lock re-pressurized. With green lights showing both inside and outside the lock, John opened the inner door, and the two spacemen shuffled into the ship. Ordin handed his pack to Will while John and Maureen helped extract them from their spacesuits. Will took the pack over to the helm, unclasped it, and removed the navigation unit, wonder shining in his eyes as he let his hands rove over the smooth surface of the instrument. The Robot stood next to him.

"Careful with that, son!" John called as he unzipped Don's suit.

"He's all right," Ordin assured him, handing his helmet to Maureen. "It's battle-hardened and extremely rugged."

Penny was standing next to Ordin, holding the sleeves of his suit straight so he could pull out an arm. She giggled, casting a sidelong glance at her brother. "You don't know Will."

"I won't drop it," Will said huffily, scowling at Penny. "Jeez."

While Judy, Penny, and Maureen were hanging up the suits, the Professor, Don, and Ordin walked over to join Will at the helm. Dr. Smith was at the piloting station also, looking dubiously at the strange unit as if it were going to blow up the ship at any moment.

"Now, let's see what we can see," Ordin said, sitting down in one of the control chairs and reaching for the sensor unit.

He placed both hands upon it, fingers splayed, and paused like he was about to play a musical instrument, head bowed in concentration. Their work done, Maureen, Judy, and Penny came over also to watch, joining the entire group who stared, mesmerized. Ordin's fingers began to move over the elongated spheroid in a strangely caressing motion, pushing, probing, stroking. His motions appeared to be entirely random, but the surface of the unit began to show faint splashes of multi-colored spots of light, undefined and nebulous. Some of the spots followed the motions of his hands and fingers, while others moved randomly or were stationary and glowed with an indistinct, pulsing hue. The smooth surface of the unit began to ripple with tiny bumps and indentations, none of which were associated with the spots of lights or the movements of his hands. They appeared, stood out for some seconds, and then disappeared into the mirror-like surface of the object.

"What are you doing?" John finally asked, fascinated, completely absorbed with following Ordin's complex movements.

Ordin raised his head and looked up at him curiously. "Turning it on," he said simply, as if it were obvious.

The deck lights overhead dimmed slightly, flickering like a load had been placed on the system.

"Oops," Ordin said to himself, his right hand moving quickly to one end of the football.

"'Oops'?" Smith said, looking around panic-stricken. "What does this mean, 'oops'? An alien who says 'oops'?!" Maureen impatiently waved him to silence.

"Having a little trouble tying in to your power," Ordin explained, his hands moving rapidly over the surface. The deck lights resumed their normal illumination. "There, that's better. It's not optimal, but the unit is responding nicely. Should have a picture in a moment…there!" he called triumphantly, pointing at a segment of the football where a strong glow had formed. "And there! That would be Alcandria! I knew it would work!"

The Professor leaned close, peering at the oddly shaped glow. "That's your planet? It doesn't look like one…"

"That is Alcandria," Ordin said firmly. "No question about it. That's what it looks like on this unit."

"What's the bearing and distance from us?" John asked.

Ordin pointed at a star-shaped bump that had appeared on the left side of the unit. "Well, that's our present position right there. Based on our orientation, Alcandria is behind us, not far." He looked up at John. "Now, I don't know the correlation between how you measure distances and how we do, so it's difficult to tell you exactly how far or how long in your system of measuring time it will take to get there." He lifted his hands helplessly. "All I can tell you is that it's not far."

"The Robot has a distance conversion sub-routine built into his navigation algorithm,"

Will offered brightly. "Maybe he could get us a course, distance, and time-of-arrival if we fed him the data from your sensor…if we can do that."

Ordin considered. "I have no idea how we could do that directly, but if I explain our measurements to him, perhaps he would understand them sufficiently to perform the conversion." He looked over at the Robot, who was standing nearby. "Can you, er, Robot, do this?"

The Robot's sensor paddles swiveled toward him. "That is easily done," he said loftily. "Please elucidate your system of measurements."

In a short space of time, the Robot absorbed Ordin's explanations, leaning forward slightly and looking for all the world like a human who was listening intently and concentrating on the speaker. When Ordin was done, the Robot straightened, withdrew his arms with a loud clack, and pronounced a navigational solution to the position of Alcandria. It turned out that the planet was fairly near. In fact, the Robot calculated that it would only take two days to reach it at one quarter of the Jupiter's best velocity, but it was a detour that would incur a penalty in their already tight fuel supply since the planet was not along the direct route to Earth.

Professor Robinson and Major West immediately sat down with calculators, pencil, and paper to work out the fuel burn numbers. With the Robot cross-checking their math and the rest of the family looking intently over their shoulders, they calculated that they could divert to Alcandria, land, drop off Ordin, then lift off and return to their original course and still have sufficient, but reduced, reserves of deutronium upon reaching Earth.

"I'll really have to watch engine use during the landing and liftoff phases," Don said, using his pencil to point at some figures on the papers before him. "But it's do-able. We've been pretty conservative on our fuel figures so far, so I'm comfortable with it. But no sightseeing flights while we're there!"

"Well, that's it, then," the Professor straightened, tossing his pencil on the pull-out chart table near the Jupiter's helm. "We can make it to Alcandria with the fuel we have and still make it to Earth. Now, we get to the hard part, which does not have a mathematical solution or even a logical one. Do we go?"

Ordin was not present. He had retreated discretely to the lower deck with Penny to allow the family their private discussion that obviously involved him. Penny had been anxious to show off her music collection, and this provided a convenient excuse for Ordin to leave the upper deck.

"Absolutely not!" Smith blustered first, ignoring West, who theatrically rolled his eyes at John. "As I have stated clearly before, we have no business diverting anywhere except to Earth! I propose that we resume course for Earth this instant." He spread his hands expansively, smiling broadly. "Once we arrive safely, we can work with Alpha Control to launch a mission to Alcandria, thereby returning Ordin to his home world. In fact, I shall be happy to take this project on myself, to ensure he returns to his home world in record time." He looked around, taking in the faces of the group, all lost in thought. The smile vanished when no one spoke. "Well? You agree, don't you? Don't you?" His eyebrows arched high in vexation. "This is madness!"

John spoke. "We have established that we _can_ return Ordin. The question is: is it safe _enough_ to do so?"

"It is a potentially hostile world," Don admitted, "to say nothing of the hazards involved in landing on an alien planet. There would be some danger, no matter how you slice it. But, it's your call, John."

"I think," Maureen said, "it would depend on whether we could get in and out without being detected, and that depends on information I'm sure Ordin could provide."

"So," John spoke his words slowly, "if he _can_ get us in, do we intentionally fly into danger on his behalf?"

Maureen folded her arms. "You already know my answer, and it is unchanged."

Don tossed a hand in the air. "Well, we can't go in with guns blazing, on account that we don't _have_ any guns mounted on this flying saucer of ours." He pursed his lips. "But, if Ordin can find us a safe place to touch down, even briefly, I'd say it was the right thing to do, and I'm for it."

"Judy?" John asked, looking at his daughter.

"I'm with Don," Judy stated firmly. "Ethically, I think it's the right thing to do, and the only thing to do."

"Will?"

"Sure!" Will answered eagerly, relishing any adventure, especially one with an element of danger.

"Robot?"

The Robot jerked, as if surprised to be included in the voting. "Well, Professor Robinson, if you are asking me to calculate our chances of successful insertion…"

John shook his head. "No. I'm asking for your _vote_. Based on what we know, how would you _choose_?"

"What nonsense," Smith scoffed. "He is a machine. He has no opinion. What are you asking him for, anyway?"

"Please, Dr. Smith. He's a valued member of this crew," John asserted without hesitation. "He has as much right to voice an opinion as any of us. Well, Robot? How do you vote?"

"Yes, then, you presumptuous popinjay!" Smith fumed sarcastically. "What is your _opinion_? I _quiver_ with anticipation to hear your enlightened _evaluation_!" The last word was drawled out contemptuously.

The Robot's sensor paddles swiveled somewhat erratically, uncertainly scanning the other members of the family. "Well, Professor…if you are asking for my opinion…my logic circuits indicate that a safer course of action…" The Robot paused, and his steadily glowing eye diodes seemed to lock on Will, who watched him intently. The diodes finally turned back to John. "I think we should take him home."

"Attaboy, Robot!" Will exploded, throwing his arms around the machine, causing him to wobble slightly, his stabilizer gyros whining faintly. "I knew you would do the right thing! And, Dad, Penny already told me she thinks we should take Ordin back!"

"You traitorous turncoat!" Smith railed indignantly at the Robot, throwing his arms in the air. "I thought I could count on you at the very least!" He leaned forward and glared at him. "We'll all be in terrible danger before this is over. _You just wait_!"

"All right, then," John said, getting to his feet. "The majority has spoken. Who wants to tell Ordin the good news…?"

Will was already running for the ladder to the lower deck. "I'm on it!" he cried, practically diving down the well.

* * * *

The blue and white world filled the Jupiter's main viewport. Very similar to Earth in appearance, but significantly larger, it was brightly lit on one side by the star Orpheus. The "dark" side of the planet was illuminated dimly by the surrounding nebula, giving the impression there was never complete night on this strange world. Oceans and continents could be seen through the swirling cloud masses, and the complex spider-webs of city lights and transportation systems could be detected on the night side, such as it was. They were approaching the northern hemisphere, and the broad, frozen, northern polar cap could be seen shining whitely.

"It looks so much like Earth!" Penny whispered wonderingly, taking in the sights, the blue glow from the planet reflected softly from her face. "Such a pretty blue, just like Earth! And look at the lights down there…"

"It could be the twin cousin of Earth," Judy agreed, her eyes scanning the vista laid out below them. "It looks like a fairy-tale world swimming in a sea of light."

"The sight never fails to move me," Ordin sighed feelingly, with his hands clasped behind him. He was standing next to the Robot. "Returning home from space is always such a profound experience…"

Don was adjusting some controls on the helm. "Looks great," he commented off-handedly, the aesthetics of the view clearly not making an impression on him, "but you're going to have to be more specific about where we put down. Our fuel margin doesn't allow for much screwing around."

"Screwing around?" Ordin asked in astonishment. "This vessel has screws…?"

"Just tell us the best landing site," John cut in wearily, staring into a sensor display.

"Well, as I mentioned before," Ordin said, giving Don an odd look, "there is no danger of coming under sensor detection until we have entered the atmosphere, and the planet-wide sensor coverage has many gaps. Do you see that large island continent, there?" Ordin pointed over Don's shoulder. "Just south of the larger body that has the two protrusions bracketing it? Most of that island is sparsely populated, and the sensor coverage there is sporadic at best. If you put down there near the coast, I will be able to find my way while you can avoid detection by Selesian planetary sensor arrays."

"Sporadic, you say?" Don asked, adjusting the ship's course. "How sporadic? Remember: we're not armed. If they see us, we're sunk."

"The sensors are more for upper atmospheric air traffic control," Ordin assured him. "They are concentrated around the population centers, but the areas in between are not covered as well. Even if you are seen, which is highly doubtful, it will take a while for the bureaucrats who manage the system to decide whether or not to investigate. Even then, they need permission from higher up to launch any kind of inquiry, so it will take even longer." He continued scornfully. "Selesians are notorious for taking a long time to make decisions because they are convinced of their complete mastery of Alcandria."

"Time to set up for our insertion trajectory," Don remarked keenly. "Adjusting course. We should be contacting the atmosphere in ten minutes."

"But how safe is it, really?" Maureen asked.

"It's safe," Ordin assured her. "It's night time where we are going to land, so just stay away from any collection of lights, find a plain or meadow to put down on, let me out, and take off before Selesian authorities marshal their forces."

"Robot, do you detect anything hostile?" John asked.

"My sensors are picking up various emitters in the area we are considering," the Robot replied. "Ordin is correct; the most intense are over the population centers. There are gaps in coverage beyond the cities, but I cannot give you more specific information." The Robot's tone became faintly apologetic. "I am not programmed for electronic warfare analysis. Sorry."

"Warfare?" Dr. Smith ranted, watching the approaching planet fearfully. "Radars? Emitters? What are we thinking here? We are not some Air Force bomber penetrating enemy defenses! We are a weaponless colonial vessel with women and children on board! Professor Robinson, I appeal to your intellectual judgment and common good sense and urge you to reconsider this rash undertaking! We must turn away now!"

John looked up at Maureen, and they both glanced at Ordin. He was still watching the approaching planet outside the viewport, but he had stiffened into a tense attitude. From where Maureen was standing, she could see his hands behind his back; they were gripping each other so tightly his knuckles were turning white. A vein was throbbing in his forehead; he had gone abruptly silent at Smith's vociferous objections. Maureen looked back at John and gave the faintest of nods.

Professor Robinson's eyes blazed as he looked intently at West. "Don!" West turned to him. "Take us down."

Ordin's face remained expressionless, but his head drooped slightly as if from tension draining out of him.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Don grinned eagerly, cracking his knuckles and straightening up in the pilot's seat. "If everyone would raise their tray tables to the upright and locked position and check your seatbelts, we will be landing shortly. Thank you for flying Jupiter Airways!"

"Yes!" Will pumped a fist in the air.

John looked up, seeing his family standing around, staring out the viewport. "What are you all standing around here for?" John boomed furiously. "Everyone strap in, now!" Guiltily, they scattered like leaves blown before the wind, retreating to the rear of the main deck, where their acceleration couches had been prepared.

Even as they piled in to their seats, fastening waist and shoulder harnesses with much clattering and boisterous conversation, Don pushed the Jupiter's thrust levers forward and grasped the control stick. He exulted as he felt the responding throb from the Jupiter's engine, and the blue world rose up to fill the viewport with vistas of swirling colors as the nose of the ship dipped towards the planet's surface. They were penetrating another alien world, distinctly hostile, and he was exulting in the beginning of a new adventure, confident in his ability to handle anything the fates threw at him. He had to work hard to resist uttering a warlike yell, knowing it would alarm the family and probably bring John's wrath down around his ears. But he smiled to himself, thinking how satisfying it would be, anyway.

Thirty minutes later found the spaceship descending in a shallow dive through smooth air after an uneventful powered atmospheric penetration. The glow from the nebula cast the entire night-side in a silvery sheen, much like a full moon would illuminate a night sky on Earth, but significantly brighter. In fact, there was sufficient light that West was able to navigate visually towards what appeared to be a clear area just to the east of a heavily forested region. As they descended through the clouds, the Robot confirmed the suitability of the landing zone, and Professor Robinson gave the final go-ahead for landing. From that point on, both men were immersed in the landing sequence and had little time for sightseeing.

At the end of some intense activity, Don had been able to place the ship in a powered hover over their chosen landing site. He lowered the landing struts, adjusted the ship's attitude, then let the vessel settle softly into what appeared to be a grass-covered glade. As the Jupiter sank ponderously but gently onto its landing struts, Don closed the thrust levers and punched several buttons in sequence, shutting down the drive section.

"Your landings are improving," John observed dryly, peering sideways at the pilot.

West waved a hand dismissively, sitting back. "Oh, stop. Now I'm all embarrassed." Dr. Smith snorted loudly from where he was seated.

Will was the first one unstrapped and ran to stand on tiptoe next to the two men to take in the sights of the new world. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "Look out there! It sure doesn't look like the last planet we were on."

"That's for sure," West commented as the rest of the family unstrapped and came forward. "Looks all green. Hey, this would be a great world for you to settle on, Smith! Just like Earth!"

"Your glib suggestion falls on deaf ears, Major," the doctor sniffed with infinite disdain.

Eerie and exotic in the gently pulsing glow from the nebula, it did appear to be a fairyland world. What appeared to be grass or a similar growth rolled away from them in small, undulating hills towards the nearby forest. There, at the border of the silhouetted forest, smaller shrubs and trees of unusual appearance gradually gave way to taller trees whose trunks clustered thickly and marched from sight into the mysterious shadows of distance. An apparent wind was causing the leaves to wave, and they flickered with scintillating points of light, as if wet from a recent rain. Overhead, the nebula pulsed and flashed with frosty witchlight in a clear sky, bathing the silent world in pearly radiance. Only the brightest stars that were able to outshine the glow from the nebula could be seen, and they sparkled brilliantly, spread about the sky in a strangely uniform, almost artificial, pattern. The propulsion pod under the Jupiter sent long, slowly rotating spikes of light into the semi-darkness.

Ordin smiled as he gazed outside. "Home. I thought I would never see it again. And, I wouldn't have, if not for you all." His voice broke slightly with emotion. "I can't thank you enough…" He trailed off.

Maureen turned kindly to him. "Your words are thanks enough, and all of us were happy to help." She cast a warning glance at Dr. Smith, who scowled back. "Your world looks like a lovely place. I wonder if we can go outside and have a look around before we leave…?" She spoke as if to herself, but she sent a meaningful glance at her husband.

Without hesitation, he addressed the Robot. "How long would it take you to perform a complete environmental analysis?"

The eye diodes in the bubble top turned towards him. "A complete analysis? That would take five hours and forty two minutes for a comprehensive evaluation from start to finish," the Robot answered, then noticed the Professor's frown. He added quickly, "Er…maybe an hour and a half if I delete some of the less significant tests…"

"Still too long," John shook his head. "We can't risk staying long, but I really don't want to pass up the opportunity to step outside."

"Me, too!" Will said excitedly. "I'd like to get some soil and rock samples…"

Don swiveled his seat around to face the Robot. "Robot, how about an abbreviated safety scan? You know, just a check on the air composition, radiation level, temperature, and any toxins that might be present? Short-term survivability stuff."

"I can assure you," Ordin said, "it's as safe out there for you as it is for me in here."

"I agree with Don," John said thoughtfully, staring into the distance. "An abbreviated safety scan, but include biological hazards?"

The Robot seemed to consider the suggestion. "That would be adequate. Soil and air samples should provide sufficient data to develop a risk evaluation. I will, of course, need to proceed outside. I can then perform a real-time evaluation in eight minutes, with margin of error point zero-zero-four percent."

The Professor nodded decisively. "Good. We are explorers after all, and can't cower inside our safe cocoon while the wonders of a new world beckon!" He waved at the Robot while looking at his son. "Will, would you do the honors? Disconnect him from the navigation console."

Smith had already thrown his arms in the air in frustrated surrender. "Madness…" he muttered. "Madness!"

Will had already begun reaching for the quick-disconnects on the cables that snaked from the helm to attachment ports on the Robot. "Yes, sir! I'll bet you're ready for some exercise, Robot, after standing here for so long!"

"My ambulatory servos do not require 'exercise'," the Robot said, his optics swiveling to watch Will. "However, a change of perspective is always welcome."

"How long will it be before you have the ship ready again for departure?" John asked.

Don had been tapping furiously on a computer keyboard and entering data into the ship's central computer. "Well, you know we can't just turn right around and hurtle back into space. It'll take me about fifteen minutes to re-configure for takeoff, and that's only if I cut a few checklists short. And I'm showing some odd readings in the engine core that showed up as we descended; I need to run a quick check on that. I also need to do a walk-around outside, review our entry data, program our departure path, recalculate fuel burn…"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture," John said. "Cut to the chase: how long until we can leave?"

West sighed, then took the plunge. "Forty minutes."

"All right, get to it, then." John stood up and watched as the Robot, now free of his cables, was trundling purposefully towards the lift so he could access the lower deck airlock. John turned towards Ordin, extending a hand.

"Ordin, you are free to go whenever you'd like."

"Thank you, Professor Robinson. Once again, I have to say I'm deeply grateful to you and your family," Ordin replied, taking his hand with a firm shake. "I'd like to stay with you until your departure, if that's all right."

"Of course it is. Let's see what the Robot has to say first."

A short time later, the Robot, standing in view outside the main viewport, transmitted his report. Omitting all the technical details--knowing from long association with the human family that they only wanted the basics--the Robot simply stated that all environmental parameters were within acceptable limits and that it was safe for the family to come outside. Upon hearing the results, the Professor, emphasizing the point that they were all explorers, even the children, gave everyone permission to leave the ship. However, he also warned each member of his family not to wander far, casting a sternly knowing look at Will and Penny, who were practically dancing with impatience to head outside. He reminded everyone that as tranquil as it seemed outside, they were still in potentially hostile territory, and would be leaving soon.

"Always keep the ship in sight, and don't go into that forest!" he concluded. "And stay paired up. No one goes off on his own, agreed?" Vigorous nods from all around. "All right, time's a-wasting. Off with you, then!"

Will and Penny sprinted for the ladder to the lower deck, while the others moved at a more controlled, but no less enthusiastic, rate. Ordin was in the lead, already chatting to the women about what to expect outside and extolling the beauties of his world.

Don looked up at the Professor and did not miss the longing look that passed across his friend's face. John finally turned and leaned on the helm. "Well, where do we start?"

Don spoke nonchalantly. "I have it under control. Sorry. I was just getting a little spun up before. I really need to deal with most of this stuff myself, and it won't take long." He paused only briefly. "Nothing much for you to do here. Why don't you head outside, too? I'd feel better if you were keeping an eye on everyone."

He cringed to himself at the way it sounded like he was giving John an order. Afraid he might have overstepped his bounds, he glanced guiltily at the Professor. However, the head of the Robinson family was again staring hungrily out through the viewport, unaware of any usurping of authority on Don's part. West began to breathe slightly easier, especially when John began to speak quietly.

"Well," John drawled absently, "if you think you have a handle on it. I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary…"

"Nah," Don plunged ahead in relief. "I got it." Finally, he gave in and grinned up at the Professor. "John, just go outside and have a look around. I know you're dying to check it out. Go on! Go do your scientist/explorer thing. Have fun!"

John grinned slyly at the pilot. "I believe I shall. You have the conn!"

"Aye, I have the ship, Captain!" Don answered in a cheery, vaguely Scottish accent.

John reached for one of their battery powered communicators. "I'll be on frequency. Call me and let me as soon as you're ready for lift off."

"Okay. Thirty or forty minutes, I should have this ready. See you in a bit." And he dove back into his computer work, discretely ignoring how quickly John moved towards the ladder at the back of the flight deck.

In no time, John joined the rest of the family standing on the surface of Alcandria. The night was silent. No birds or animal sounds could be heard; there was only a distant rustling from the forest as the trees were disturbed by a light breeze. The temperature was comfortable; seventy-one degrees on the Fahrenheit scale, as reported by the Robot. The grass, if such it was, crackled softly underfoot, making an odd tinkling sound as it was trod upon, more crystalline than organic. The nebula filled the sky with soft light, and the slowly revolving lights from the Jupiter's propulsion pod backlit the six humans and one Alcandrian who stood clustered around the Robot at the front of the ship, peering eagerly around them.

"Dad," Will said, his backpack on one shoulder and a geologist's tool kit clutched in the other hand, "I'm going to go look around."

"Go ahead, son, but remember what I said," John emphasized, staring around into the night and sniffing the air. "Stay in the clearing, keep the ship in sight, and come running if I call. Penny, you're with Will. Don't get separated!" This last warning was called out to their rapidly retreating backs as they hustled off.

"Come on, Judy," Maureen said. "Let's us have a look around."

"Okay!"

The two women wandered away together in the direction of the forest, marveling at the strangeness of their surroundings. Ordin and John strolled off together, deep in conversation about Alcandria. Only Smith and the Robot were left standing together.

"Well, you ninny!" Smith growled. "This is all _your_ fault!"

"That does not compute," the Robot answered, surprised. "How can this be my fault, whatever it is?"

"All you had to do was skew the environmental results, report the atmosphere was poisonous, and we would all be safe inside the Jupiter 2 ready to lift off as soon as that reprehensible pilot has his ridiculous checklists accomplished! Hmm!"

"You said that all in one breath," the Robot observed admiringly.

"Don't patronize me, you dim-witted dunderhead!" Smith thundered. "And, don't change the subject. My lung capacity is no concern of yours and has no bearing on our present situation." He peered guardedly around him. "Who knows what monstrous abominations are lurking out there, ready to spring upon us to our destruction!"

"My sensors are not detecting…" he trailed off, then extended his arms and started waving them, swiveling his body right and left.

Instantly interpreting the familiar signs, Smith began backing towards the landing strut that contained the stairs back into the ship. "What is it?" he began fearfully, his eyes rolling about him. "Speak, you reprehensible wretch! We're about to be attacked by aliens…?"

"Warning! Warning! Deutronium fumes detected! Danger! Potential for ignition and explosion!"

Smith lurched backwards, casting terrified glances about him. "What? Where? Explosion…?"

Professor Robinson, who had not gone far, spun around at the Robot's warning. At the same instant, John's belt-mounted radio sprang into life. "John! Come in!"

Looking up at the brightly lit main viewport of the Jupiter high above, he could see Major West leaning over the helm panels, his body rigid, his hands dancing over the controls.

The Professor snatched the com-link unit off his belt and keyed the mike. "Go ahead, Don." He began striding back towards the ship, sensing something was very wrong.

"Number two tank is depressurizing! We're losing fuel…a leak is indicated…"

A faint hissing was coming from somewhere under the belly of the ship. A cloud of vapor was coming from around the edges of a closed panel in the hull, settling to the ground, and spreading out in a blanket of dense fog only a few inches off the ground.

"We've got deutronium vapor out here, looks like it's coming from one of the lower fuel access panels," John shouted into the radio, then started moving back towards the ship, Ordin scrambling to keep up.

The Robot was still there, wailing his warnings and flailing about. Smith was backing away from the ship, his hands in front of him as if to ward off the fog that was spreading tentacles towards him.

"I'm on it," came Don's response over the radio. "We're definitely losing fuel…not fast, but the tank will be depleted in…" His voice trailed off as he moved away from the microphone pickup.

"Say again?" John called, now running for the landing strut stairway. "How long…?" He skidded to a halt as he ran into a powerful bank of invisible fumes that seemed to be directly above the visible vapor crawling along the ground. "Stay back!" he pushed Ordin behind him, waving his hand in front of his face and coughing. "Toxic fumes…"

The Robot rolled up to the Professor, pointing with one of his clawed arms, "Fuel manifold number three is above that closed panel. Possible fuel line rupture _there_. Warning!"

"We're doomed!" Smith wailed hysterically from several paces away, his eyes wide with terror. "Doomed! The whole ship is going to explode!"

Robinson had staggered back, eyes watering, unable to approach closer because of the vapors. He cleared his throat and managed to gasp, "Don…Robot says…possible fuel line rupture…fuel panel three…fumes and vapor…"

"Yeah, I see it now," came Don's tense response. "It's one of the pressurized lines in the refueling manifold. I'm closing transfer valves to isolate it. Probably a blown a line or seal. Stay away from the ship…deutronium fumes are deadly!"

John and Ordin increased their distance from the Jupiter even as Penny came running up. "Dad, what's wrong?"

John answered, his voice raspy, still trying to stifle coughs, as was Ordin. "Fuel leak. Stay right here!"

Maureen and Judy had joined them, and all five watched the ship from afar. "Is Don all right?" Judy asked worriedly, staring at the strange, dense vapor that was puddled like water around the landing struts of the ship.

"He's inside the ship," John said. "The leak is outside. As long as he sealed the lower hatch remotely, which I hope he did, he should be fine. Otherwise, we are going to have to purge the atmosphere in the ship before we can get back on board." He could still see Don working through the viewport and realized he had never asked if West had closed the door against the toxic vapor. He keyed the transmitter and asked worriedly, "Don, is the ship sealed?"

"Yeah…I shut the door as soon as I saw the leak," Don called calmly. "I've got the leak isolated now. Keep everyone away until the vapor and fumes dissipate."

"Did you get fuel fumes inside the ship?" John transmitted.

"No. All our atmosphere samplers are showing green…no presence of toxic chemicals. I think I got the hatch closed in time."

John looked at Maureen. "That, at least, is a relief."

The hissing from the ship diminished and stopped. At the same time, the dense vapor cascading like some deadly liquid from the underside of the ship trickled away to nothing. The remaining mist on the ground slowly crawled away as the slight breeze moved it away from the ship.

The Robot retracted his arms into this torso, announcing conversationally, "Fuel fumes and deutronium vapors are dissipating downwind. No further evidence of additional leak. Crisis concluded."

"I'd better get inside and find out how much fuel we lost," John replied, clearing his throat loudly and spitting on the ground, trying to rid himself of the acrid taste the fumes had left in his mouth.

"Was it caused by your landing here?" Ordin inquired softly.

John glanced back at the alien and smiled reassuringly. "Honestly, it could have been, but, on the other hand, it might have been ready to blow anyway. In that case, landing here may have been a stroke of good luck if it's something we can repair. We'll know soon." He looked down at Penny, recollecting his previous orders. "Where is your brother?" he asked sternly.

Her eyes went wide for a moment, but at that instant, Will came running up out of the gloom, his backpack already bulging with geologic finds. "What's going on?"

"Dad said we had a fuel leak," Penny replied, grateful to deflect attention from her dereliction in not staying paired with Will, as her father had instructed.

"Fuel leak?" Will said. "That can't be good."

"Can we go back to the ship?" Judy asked, watching the distant form of Major West moving in the open viewport of the ship.

"Let's just wait a few more moments," John answered, "to make sure all the fumes get blown downwind." He was watching the white vapor continue to move away from the ship and dissipating as it went. He was thankful a stroke of luck had them already positioned upwind.

"I just knew it," Smith had walked up to the group. "But none of you would listen. "Mark my words! Landing here will be nothing but trouble!"

"You are a pessimist," the Robot commented rather unhelpfully, in a way that was certain to raise Dr. Smith's ire.

It did.

Dr. Smith glared up at the machine's bubble top and into the Robot's eye diodes. "How dare you, you preposterous prig! No one asked for your opinion! But I suppose you think the glass is half full, do you?"

"If you are referring to the old cliché, and not a literal reference, I am neither an optimist nor a pessimist." The Robot seemed to consider carefully, then added, "I am a machine, and am therefore, I think, a realist."

Dr. Smith snorted derisively. "A realist, indeed! Rubbish from a rusty Rasputin!" He jerked back in surprise at his own words, then smiled, pleased at his inadvertent bit of alliteration. Then, he plunged on as of one deeply insulted. "And, I shall not stand here and be lectured to by a fractious philosopher. Come, William!" he called to Will, who glanced up at him. "Let us retire to further your geological studies. There is nothing more we can do here, and this poisonous atmosphere will be the death of us."

"Can I, Dad?" Will asked.

The Professor nodded. "Dr. Smith is right. There is nothing more to do here until I find out what the damage is." A stern tone entered his voice. "But, don't go far, and I mean it! Monitor your communications unit and come running if and when I call! Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Will answered respectfully. "Come on, Dr. Smith. I found some interesting stones on the ground just over there..."

"Interesting pebbles?" Smith rumbled dubiously. "Really! I suppose they'll have to do. Lead on then, my boy. Come along, come along! Don't dawdle, now!"

Maureen watched Smith pushing Will ahead of him, then said to John, who was still eyeing the ship with obvious worry, "This can't be a good thing."

"Smith and Will going rock hunting?" John asked innocently.

She frowned and jabbed him in the arm. "Don't be coy. You know what I mean. About the fuel."

"Let's just wait before we start panicking," John said encouragingly, waving a hand towards the ship. "Don jumped on the problem pretty fast. Perhaps the leak won't affect us much. Robot! We're returning to the ship. Proceed ahead of us and alert me if you detect dangerous levels of deutronium toxins."

"Acknowledged," the Robot replied, swiveled, and trundled towards the Jupiter, with the family following cautiously at a slight distance.

All evidence of the fuel leak was gone, and they quickly mounted the landing strut, opened the hatch, and filed up into the ship. A few minutes later, they were gathered around Don, who was leaning back in the pilot's seat to welcome them back. "Well, what do you want first, the good news, or bad news?"

"Just give me the facts," John said testily, his arms folded on his chest.

Don ignored his crankiness and waved a hand at the fuel panel. "All right. We lost some deutronium, obviously. One of the pressurized refueling lines blew out. I isolated it from the main manifold."

"Can we repair it?"

"I'll go down and have a look at it if you'd like. However, unless you plan on refueling, we won't need that line anyway, so there's nothing we need to repair. It's completely isolated, so I say let's just leave it alone."

"Fine," John agreed. "No sense to fix it. Now for the big questions: how much fuel did we lose and how will it affect us?"

Don tapped a pencil thoughtfully on the console. "I knew you'd want to know that right away. I did a quick check, and I'll need the Robot to check my math and run a more extensive analysis, but I believe our reserve is pretty much gone."

"Can we still make Earth?" Maureen asked softly.

"Yes," Don replied tentatively, "but just barely, and only if we do some creative maneuvering once we get into our solar system. Like I said, I need to check my figures."

Judy spoke. "When you say 'creative maneuvering', what do you mean by that?"

"We'll need to save our gas for re-entry and final landing," West explained. "With our reserves gone, I'll have to idle the engine as much as possible, so a powered flight through the solar system is out of the question. We'll need to perform a couple of gravitational slingshots to get us close enough to Earth."

"I'm assuming you're talking about using the gravitational fields of one or more of the planets in the solar system," John said, massaging the back of his neck and staring at the navigational consoles, as if an answer lay within.

"Yes," Don responded. "We can use the gravitational fields of one or two of the outer planets to get us close enough to Earth. Once we're close enough, we'll power back up and land conventionally."

"Is that difficult?" Maureen asked.

"Nah," West shrugged dismissively. "I'll have to do some number-crunching, maybe borrow some of the Robot's processing power to help. I can do it, no sweat. The hard part will be figuring out which planets to use. It will depend on how we arrive relative to the plane of the solar system, and exactly where all the planets are in space." His face grew thoughtful. "I suppose we might not have to use them at all if we come in at a ninety degree angle to the plane of the solar system. We can just coast all the way…" His voice trailed off, then he refocused his eyes again and waved his hand impatiently, as if shooing a fly. "We don't know enough yet, but we will once we get closer."

"Can we get off this planet and do all this calculating in space?" John asked. "I'm not comfortable hanging out here any longer than necessary."

Don turned back to him. "Yeah, no problem. Our plan to return to the solar system is unaffected. We'll simply need to figure out how to get to Earth once we're in the neighborhood of the solar system and can see how things look."

Professor Robinson sighed. "Sounds a little iffy, but it looks like the immediate crisis is over. I suppose I should just be glad we're not completely dead in the water. How far along are you in the launch sequence?"

"I was just getting started," Don answered, already returning to his checklists. "We can be ready to go in about fifteen minutes, as long as you don't want to repair that refueling line."

"Forget the refueling line," John affirmed. "Let's just get off this planet. Maureen, call Will and tell him and Dr. Smith to get back here right away." He turned to Ordin and extended a hand. "Well, my friend, I think it's time our paths parted and for you to be on your way." However, Ordin ignored John's hand and was staring woodenly out the viewport. John dropped his hand to his side, looking at him with concern. "What?" He turned to follow Ordin's gaze.

Maureen was already looking out the viewport, and her hand flew up to her mouth in consternation. "Will?"

Outside, Will and Dr. Smith were walking towards the ship, their hands held stiffly over their heads. Behind them and following closely were a group of about a dozen individuals, holding what appeared to be leveled weapons. Even in the vague, glowing twilight, they could see Dr. Smith's eyes wide with fear. Other than that, further details were difficult to make out, but Ordin was clearly in no doubt about the newcomers.

He dropped his head in defeat, raising his hand to squeeze his temples. "I don't believe this." He said in chagrin, staring at the floor. "It is a Selesian patrol. We are undone."

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	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note to My Patient Readers: Thank you, all of you, for the very fine feedback you've been sending me! I continue to appreciate the outpouring of support and encouragement. My effort continues with Chapter 10, which is the longest chapter in the series. That's why it's taken me a little longer to get it out, to try and trap inconsistencies, grammar/spelling errors, and holes in the plot. Ah, well…I trust I didn't miss any, and I hope you'll forgive any that I did! Enough excuses. I submit, for your approval: Chapter 10. Enjoy. (2 more chapters and an epilogue to go!)

Lost in Space, The Return, Chap 10. The Alcandrian Adventure

The dozen or so Selesians stood waiting in front of the Jupiter while Professor Robinson, Major West, and Ordin descended the landing strut ladder and spread out in front of them. Both John and Don had donned their laser sidearms, but left them holstered in their belts. The Robot, who had remained outside following the incident of the fuel leak, stood silently to one side, clicking and whirring to himself. Maureen, Judy, and Penny were crowded at the viewport, watching pensively from inside the ship.

"They came out of the woods…we didn't see them!" Will cried in distress.

"Tell them we mean no harm!" Smith joined in querulously, panic-stricken. "Don't just stand there…do something!"

John held up a hand, gesturing for silence, and waited impassively for the Selesians to make their move.

The Selesians were large, hulking figures. Humanoid in appearance, they were swarthy in a primitive way, all standing over six feet tall. Hair sprouted from their faces so that only their wide, scowling eyes and slit-like mouths could be seen. They were garbed from head to foot in ornate, metallic armor, upon which were some sorts of stones or gems that sparkled as the Selesians moved in the night-time glow from the nebula.

The aliens were holding long, slender tubes that appeared to be weapons. Gray in color, they were four to five feet long, and there was a large opening at one end, approximately an inch or two in diameter, like the muzzle of a rifle. At the back end, there were a number of thick cables that ran directly from the tubes to square packs the aliens wore on their backs. There appeared to be no trigger or other mechanism on the tube; the Selesians simply held them in their cupped hands. Several of the tubes were leveled at Will and Smith while others were pointing menacingly at the three men standing motionless in front of the Jupiter.

Finally, when no one spoke, Professor Robinson slowly raised his head, his eyes glinting defiantly in the eerie witchlight from the nebula. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he said, his voice carefully measured, neither friendly nor provocative. However, one hand rested suggestively on the hilt of his holstered laser.

One of the aliens, slightly larger than the others and adorned with more gems, strode forward, followed closely by a second, smaller, Selesian. They passed Will and Dr. Smith and walked directly up to face Professor Robinson. They stopped, their weapons pointing at John's chest, but their eyes fastened with unconcealed hatred on Ordin.

"Who are you, and where do you come from?" the large alien growled in a guttural tone, still glaring at Ordin.

Unhurriedly, the Professor allowed his eyes to travel over the alien and his partner, lingering only momentarily on the tubes leveled at him. Finally, he spoke, his tone unchanged, but he formed his words deliberately. "I am Professor John Robinson of the Earth ship Jupiter 2. We mean you no harm. Release my son and the other man."

"You are in a position unsuitable to making demands," the alien rumbled ominously, continuing to stare meaningfully at Ordin. "And if you intend no harm, then why are you harboring this rebel terrorist?"

The muscles in Ordin's jaw were visibly working, but he kept his lips tightly closed and arms folded.

The Professor continued in the same even tone. "We found this man, adrift and dying in space." He cocked his head challengingly. "We are concluding a rescue mission. It is the custom on our world to help those in need."

The Selesian laughed, unpleasantly, his eyes finally shifting to glare directly at John. "You may find that custom will cost you on _our_ world, alien! In the name of the Emperor, I, Captain Antin Garrak, arrest you," he waved a hand towards the viewport high above, "and all here in your party."

"And what is the charge?" the Professor asked, playing for time.

"Harboring a known terrorist, and spying," Garrak said as if it were obvious. "There will undoubtedly be other crimes you will be found guilty of. You will now hand over your weapons."

"And if we don't?" West snarled back belligerently, his hands on his hips, elbows outward, his feet spread.

Garrak turned his back on John and pointed his weapon at Will, speaking in an incongruously friendly tone. "In that case, this small one will die first, followed by each of you in turn until you are all dead."

"Warning!" the Robot abruptly rolled forward from where he had been standing unobtrusively under one of the landing struts. He extended his arms, and electrical arcs jumped between his claws. "Defensive unit activated!"

Several of the Selesians surged forward, and the alien standing next to Garrak aimed his weapon at the threateningly advancing machine. West made a grab for his laser pistol; Ordin lowered into a crouch, clearly preparing to make a mad rush at the nearest Selesian. Garrak raised his weapon, still trained on Will.

"Enough!"

Professor Robinson's commanding bellow caused everyone to freeze. He continued. "Robot, power down! That won't help us now." The Robot stopped where he was and retracted his arms. There were a couple snaps of residual electricity around his claws, and he lapsed back into wary motionlessness. The bright pinpoints of his eyes in the bubble top were fixed on the aliens.

"John!" Don growled sideways at him. "We can take them…!"

"I don't think so," the Professor answered, resignedly. "Not now."

"That is wise," Garrak agreed, turning back to face the humans. "You look Alcandrian," he stated, squinting at John. "However, if you are truly of an alien race, then I shall demonstrate our capabilities…"

Garrak turned and angled his rod down. Holding it steady with his left hand, he made a curious twisting motion with his right. The portion of the tube under his right hand rotated. There was a brief whine from the unit on his back, a loud snap from the tube, and a bright red ball of energy leaped from the open end. It shot across the clearing to gouge a black furrow in the ground before exploding with a loud detonation, sending grass and dirt flying amid sparks and flame. The debris fell hissing to the ground, leaving a smoking trench that was twenty feet long and easily three feet deep at the further end. Smith squawked, but no one else made an outcry.

Seemingly bored, Garrak turned back to the Professor. "This is wearying. Give me your weapons. You will then go fetch out the other members of your group that I can see at that window." He pointed up at the viewport. "If you resist, we will destroy you, and that will save us the inconvenience of hauling you back. Choose your fate. Now."

"Don," Robinson said slowly, drawing his laser and tossing it on the ground. "Do what he says. Go upstairs and bring everyone down."

Defiantly glaring at the Selesians, West snatched his laser out of his holster and tossed it contemptuously to the ground at Garrak's feet. As he turned for the boarding ladder, Garrak barked a command, and three of his soldiers followed West, crowding up the landing strut after him and into the ship.

"Garrak!" one of the Selesians in the group called. He had just pulled a black, brick-shaped instrument away from his hair-covered ear. "Command wants a report!"

Eagerly, Garrak turned his back on the group and strode over to snatch the instrument from his subordinate, brought it to his ear, and appeared to be speaking softly into it. Meanwhile, his lieutenant ordered another soldier to gather up the discarded laser pistols. He picked them up, dropping them into a sack, and brought them to the lieutenant. The two examined the contents of the bag while the other Selesians kept the men covered with their rod-weapons.

"This is impossible," Ordin whispered aside to John. "Selesian authorities are unable to act this quickly. This patrol must have just been at the right place to see us land. I am grievously sorry."

"Don't worry about it," John answered. "We all knew the risks coming here, and I would have done it again." He glanced confidently at Ordin. "We'll figure this out."

In spite of John's assured manner, Ordin appeared troubled and doubtful.

In short order, Maureen, Penny, Judy, and Major West were hustled outside to join John and Ordin under the combined guns of the Selesians. Two of the guards had been detailed to watch over the Robot, and they eyed the strangely blinking, clicking machine with distrust mingled with a bit of fear. As the family was herded together, Garrak finished his communication, thrust the instrument back at the soldier who had been carrying it, and walked back to face the family, a smug look on his face.

"Put them in a line," Garrak gleefully ordered one of his soldiers, then addressed John. "Do not deviate, or you will be destroyed." He turned and pointed at two other soldiers, barking at them directly. "Banalt! Thoom! You two will remain and guard this ship. You will not enter. Experts will be sent to examine it."

Grumbling in surly tones to themselves and scowling at Garrak, Banalt and Thoom separated themselves from the group and shuffled back to take up positions under the propulsion pod, casting curious glances at the slowly rotating lights.

"And touch nothing!" Garrak added meaningfully.

More grumbling. The two Selesians propped their weapons on the ground vertically, the muzzles in the grass, cabled ends up.

"Do what he says," Professor Robinson spoke to his family as one of the soldiers gestured with his weapon. "I'll lead, then Maureen. Ordin, I'd like you to go next, then Don, Judy, Smith, Penny, and Will. Robot, bring up the rear, and," he turned away and offhandedly added, "execute security protocol two-omega, ten."

The Robot's bubble top rose slightly, but his only reply was: "Acknowledged."

Garrak spun about and looked suspiciously at John. "What did you just say to that machine?"

John spread his hands. "I told the Robot to follow behind my family."

"No, after that!"

Robinson shrugged exaggeratedly. "I have to tell the machine to execute any instructions given, otherwise he doesn't do them. See?" he concluded vaguely, waving as the Robot rolled obediently to the end of the line right behind Will, pivoted, and waited.

The Selesian captain looked baffled, his mouth opening and closing uncertainly, not sure what John was referring to. His eyes darted back and forth between Professor Robinson, who stared back at him unflinchingly, and the waiting Robot, who appeared, in an odd, unaccountable way, to be making a theatrical show of innocence. Realizing he was appearing uncertain and indecisive to his underlings, he uttered some imprecation under his breath and tossed his head impatiently. He turned his back on the prisoners, barked a command, and started his group heading towards the forest.

Despite the warnings from their captors, Ordin fell back to talk to Major West and was shocked to see the pilot grinning.

"Why are you so happy?" Ordin whispered in astonishment. "We are in serious trouble here!"

West angled his head towards Ordin, keeping his voice low but still smiling impishly. "I know, but John put one over on the bastards. No one will be getting into our ship without a lot of trouble."

"What do you mean?"

West tossed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the ship. "Did you hear that strange execute command he said? He told the Robot to close up the place and lock it."

Shaking his head and looking utterly lost, Ordin said, "What?"

"John told the Robot to remotely shut down and secure the ship," Don explained. "In ten minutes, the Robot will send a radio signal to shut down the engine, power everything down, disconnect the generators, close and lock all hatches, kill the batteries, and basically turn the whole ship into a big hunk of metal. I nearly forgot we had that system; haven't had any reason to use it over the last few years. They're not getting into our ship anytime soon, damn them! Ha!"

Heartened at Don's contagious optimism, Ordin whispered, "I've got to tell you how sorry I am, Major West. I had no right to ask you all to bring me here…" His voice trailed away.

Don waved a hand dismissively, ignoring some dirty looks he was now drawing from the nearest Selesians as he continued their conversation. "Call me Don. Don't give it another thought. It was the right thing to do, and I agreed with John's decision, as did everyone in the family. Besides," and he smiled conspiratorially, then made an outrageous face back at a nearby guard who was glowering sullenly at him, "this could be fun!"

Ordin rolled his eyes in disbelief, throwing up his hands in surrender at the bizarre behavior of his rescuers, but smiled in spite of himself and the danger of their situation.

* * * * *

Soon, the landing site--with the comforting and familiar view of the Jupiter 2, now untenanted and under guard by the Selesians--disappeared from sight as the family was herded onto a rough trail that wound its way between the towering trees. These trees seemed to grow straight up out of the ground with very few lower branches, giving the impression of building-support columns rather than natural tree trunks. Far overhead, the high branches reached out from the upper levels, spreading into a canopy of what appeared to be leaves. These stood out in silhouette against the glow from the nebula and emitted a faint crystalline tinkling in the slight breeze, as if they were made of glass instead of organic matter. For a while, the family looked in wonder about their surroundings despite the precariousness of their position, following the trail that wound left and right among the ramrod straight trunks. However, soon the initial curiosity wore off and, in response to their captors' incessant urging for more speed, they sank into silent, plodding melancholy, their eyes fastened gloomily only on the ground ahead. Time passed slowly.

"This sucks," Penny grumbled aside to Will, who was walking next to her. "Why are they being so ugly? We didn't do anything to them. How will we get back?"

"I don't know," Will replied. "Don't worry. Dad'll figure out something."

"We should never have come here," Penny continued petulantly. "What do you think is going to happen to us?"

Dr. Smith had fallen back upon hearing the children whispering. "We're doomed," he intoned gravely, casting a mournful gaze about him. "There is no hope for us anymore! I warned your parents about coming here, and now look at us. We're in the hands of implacable aliens who mean us only harm!" He looked down and saw Penny staring up at him, panic etched in her face. His tone changed to one of heroic grandeur. "But, fear not, dear children! No harm will come to you; I will protect you until my last breath! Never fear, Smith is here!"

They were startled by an explosive, grinding sound that came from the Robot who was following closely behind them.

Dr. Smith stared back at him, outraged. "Do you have a comment, you clanking clod?"

His eye diodes fastened upon him. "I was merely clearing my computers."

"What? Well, do it some other time and figure out a way to get us out of this!"

"Silence!" Garrak finally bellowed in irritable exasperation from up front.

Smith made a face at the Robot, turned, and resumed walking. The children giggled in spite of themselves.

They followed the trail for what seemed like hours until they abruptly emerged into a clearing, and the clearing contained a strange vessel. It sat in the middle of the roughly rectangular field, and their captors urged them towards it. In appearance, it was in the shape of a boat or curving gondola. Both the front and back tapered symmetrically to razor sharp angles, while the bottom was crescent shaped. A low rail completely encircled a flat deck that appeared mostly level, and a large box-like podium rose near one of the ends, whether the back or front, it was impossible to tell. The most bizarre aspect of the craft was that it seemed to be hovering silently about a foot above the ground. The only part of it actually touching the ground was a gangplank that led up to an open gate in the railing. Two Selesians were on board, leaning on the rails and observing their approach with some interest, pointing excitedly in their direction and talking to one another.

They hastily covered the distance from the edge of the field to the craft, and Garrak stood at the foot of the gangplank, waving his rod weapon up towards the deck. "Quickly, quickly!" he snarled at them. "We must get to the palace before the sun rises! Shon-KonDar will be furious if we are not there when he wishes to see us!"

Ordin stopped abruptly at the foot of the gangplank, causing West to bump into him. "He is here? On Alcandria?" he asked, appalled.

"Quite a surprise for you, no?" Garrak grinned unpleasantly through his copious facial hair. "When we alerted our command at your capture, that was the word I got back. Not only is our all-powerful god-king present on Alcandria, but, upon hearing of your capture, he is desirous of making your acquaintance, personally!" His face suddenly contorted into a grimace of unconcealed fury. "And now you are making us late and dishonoring me! Now, get on!" He roughly shoved Ordin up the ramp. He grabbed Don by the shoulder to do the same, but West shook him off with a venomous glance and followed Ordin calmly up onto the ship.

Once they were on the open deck of the ship, they were herded to one end of the vessel, the end that did not contain the upright podium. Several of the soldiers, detailed by Garrak, lined up to cover them with their weapons and keep them separated from what now appeared to be the front of the ship.

As this was going on, one of the Selesians pulled up the gangplank and dropped it on the deck with a loud crash that earned him a withering glare and explosive curse from Garrak. Contemptuously ignoring the captain's outburst, the soldier sauntered carelessly up to the podium at the front. The slanted, flat top of the podium revealed itself to contain a random arrangement of switches and knobs, and upon these the Selesian's hands danced in a complex series of movements. The entire vessel jerked, then slowly pivoted and rose straight up into the air without making a sound. The pilot mashed his fist down on a large button, the prow stopped turning, there was a momentary pause, and then the ship started moving forward towards the edge of the field, rising so that it would clear the tops of the surrounding trees. Silently, it wafted along about fifty feet off the ground and well clear of the treetops, moving at perhaps twenty or thirty miles per hour. It climbed over forested areas and descended into clearings smoothly and seemingly without control by the driver. The soldier at the helm-podium simply stood there with a bored look on his face, watching the way ahead. The Robinsons, meanwhile, braced themselves against the pitching motion on the rear railing and watched as the Alcandrian countryside rolled by underneath.

"I am going to be sick!" Dr. Smith wailed, turning a dreadful shade of green and gripping the railing with a white-knuckled grasp. He made a plaintive moan as the vessel sank again into another clearing.

Will, standing next to the doctor, was grinning, letting the wind of their passage ruffle his straight hair. His head was swiveling right, left, up, and down as he divided his excited attention all around, speaking to no one in particular. "This is cool! How is this thing propelled? Anti-gravity? Repulsors? Magnetics? That guy isn't even controlling it; it must be under a computer control or something." He stopped his patter mid-stream to glance at Smith. "Dr. Smith, you should look at the horizon, not at the ground, and I think you'll feel better. Your inner ear is getting messed up with the pitching and heaving motion…"

Smith leaned over the rail and groaned again. "Please, William…"

"Or you can press the acupressure point on your wrist for five minutes or so," Penny added brightly. "I read somewhere that helps some people."

Smith looked over at her in distracted puzzlement. "What?"

The Robot was standing next to them, leaning smoothly back and forth with the motion of the ship. "Dr. Smith is suffering from motion-sickness brought on by lateral accelerations and conflict between visual perception and vestibular balance," he lectured pedantically. "Fortunately, my inertial gyro-stabilizers are capable of automatically resolving such discordance."

"Be quiet, you cackling canister of condensers!" Smith angrily channeled his mounting discomfort and aggravation on the unassuming machine. "Leave me in peace to my misery…oh, dear…"

"Is Dr. Smith okay?" Judy asked, moving up to the rail near Will.

"Yeah, he's okay," Will answered, watching the countryside roll past beneath them. "He just isn't a very good flyer."

Judy crossed her arms and hugged herself tightly. "I can't say I blame him. You might think this is fun, but we're in serious trouble."

"Who says we're in trouble?" Don swaggered over, easing up behind her and encircling her waist with his arms. "I'm having a great time. Isn't this planet beautiful? What a ride!"

Judy leaned her head back against his chest and smiled, rolling her eyes. "Your never-ending cheerfulness sometimes drives me crazy…but, thanks for being here for me!"

"Never fear, West is here!" he grinned, casting a gleeful look in Dr. Smith's direction.

"Go away, Major," Smith glowered back at him, waving a dismissive hand. "You irk me."

"Hey look!" Will had turned from watching the rear view to seeing what was ahead. "We're coming to a lake or something!"

Ahead, the forest ended on a narrow beach. The craft did not deviate from its course and soon swept out over the water, passing smoothly over gently undulating waves. The prow was pointed out towards the unbroken line of the horizon, and soon the shore vanished behind them, leaving them alone in an unending expanse of gray, rolling water that appeared more characteristic of a sea than an inland lake.

"They must be heading for the great Selesian palace built some years ago on Maldak Island," Ordin explained to John and Maureen, who were standing huddled together. "Apparently, Shon-KonDar is in residence there."

"I thought this Shon-KonDar was the king of Selesia?" John asked, scanning the horizon. "What's he doing here?"

Ordin's jaw hardened. "This is foul luck, indeed. He generally stays in his capital on Selesia, but sometimes he comes to Alcandria to vacation or pronounce new decrees that always increase his oppression over my people. I had no idea he was actually here."

"You must be a pretty important guy, then, if he wants to see you."

Ordin shrugged indifferently. "I've been flying with the Sons of Orpheus for some time. I suppose he knows me…" He stiffened. "Look there, just on the horizon! Can you see what appears to be a peak?"

"Yes?"

"I was right. That is Maldak Island, and that must be where we're going."

Ahead, an island was growing above the horizon. From a distance, it appeared stark and black, rising precipitously from the water. As they got closer, the family could see it was very rocky with steep cliffs and forbidding crags, with the rolling waves crashing against the foot of the palisades, sending up geysers of white water among creaming surf.

Perched on the highest cliffs was clearly the palace Ordin had been referring to. It consisted of a great number of spired towers, turrets, and soaring arches, and squat, rectangular buildings. Lights could be seen from innumerable windows set haphazardly in the walls and towers, and a flickering glowing reflected off the buildings as if from fires or torches below. Smoke or vapors trailed up from some of the higher towers only to be quickly whisked away by the sea breezes. Backlit by the glowing nebula, it was a starkly sinister pile, rearing jagged spikes into the heavens like naked daggers. It was sight that inspired deep foreboding.

Their transport nosed up to climb at an acute angle to breast a towering wall that seemed to encircle the entire complex. It then angled over, causing everyone, including the Selesians, to scramble for handholds. The pilot, his nonchalance dropped, scrabbled wildly over his panel to control the descent rate, and the vessel sank with an accompanying rocking motion into a large courtyard, finally leveling out and coming to a stop. At Garrak's command, one of his henchmen scuttled over to push out the gangplank; it clattered to the ground, the impact echoing among the walls of the courtyard. The gangplank rested at the foot of a broad stairway that rose towards an ornate double-valved door, through which more Selesians descended, brandishing their rod-like weapons.

"Move!" Garrak shouted at the Robinsons, herding them towards the entry port.

As the family descended, the waiting Selesian guards closed around them and marched them up the stairs, through the doors, and into a cavernous hall that seemed to lead directly into the heart of the palace. They walked past thick columns of stone, between which were enormous, leering, gargoyle-like statues. These seemed to glare maliciously at the passing group with eyes that sparkled redly in the wan illumination that seemed to come from nowhere, but was everywhere. The towering ceiling was lost in gloom overhead, increasing the sense of hopelessness and despair, and their footsteps echoed eerily. Aside from the closely packed group, there was no other person in sight, and the silence in the huge edifice was oppressive and filled with a sense of peril.

"This place could use a good dusting," Don grumbled. "And a better interior decorator! Where is everybody?"

"Silence!" Garrak roared hoarsely, his voice echoing into the abyssal hush.

After a while, they turned out of the main corridor and entered a maze of smaller hallways. One hall led into another, until they finally found themselves before an ornate door flanked by half a dozen guards. Garrak conversed in low tones with one of them, who then opened the door slightly, slid inside, and shut it behind him.

After a few minutes, the door opened, and a tall Selesian emerged. He was dressed in a long, flowing gown that flashed with gems similar to the ones the soldiers wore, but much brighter and set in far more intricate patterns. He was clean shaven, and wore a tall conical hat over gray hair. His eyes regarded the prisoners with an appraising, unblinking stare for a few moments, his arms folded out of sight in the voluminous sleeves of his robe.

Finally, he spoke in deep, stentorian tones. "Aliens, I am Telmok, Grand Vizier and Advisor to Shon-KonDar, son of the Creator of the Universe, Light of the Dawn, Purveyor of the Infinite Truth, Holder of the Eight Secrets of Klandar."

Major West rolled his eyes and snorted derisively under his breath, "Yeah, Almighty Grand Poobah." Judy, who was hanging onto his arm, gave him a warning nudge in the ribs.

The Grand Vizier continued. "We have been told of your coming. Shon-KonDar wishes to see you himself, to decide your fate. Follow."

He turned towards the door and signaled two of the guards who were flanking it. They reached over and pulled hard on the handles, hauling the doors open. As they did so, the loud susurration of many voices in conversation rolled out of the opening. Telmok swept through, his robes brushing the floor and the gems on his robe winking with his movement. The Selesian guards prodded the prisoners forward, and they followed in the Vizier's wake.

They were entering what appeared to be a large throne room. It was brilliantly lit by globes set in the high ceiling and on the walls. The illumination was bright enough to cause the Robinsons to squint after their long immersion in the faint witchlight of the nebula-shrouded night. There were dozens of apparent Selesian dignitaries milling about, many dressed similarly to Telmok, but less grandly. Everyone seemed to be absorbed in loud discourse with their neighbors, but all heads turned as one as the doors opened and the captive party entered. Conversations trailed away as the prisoners and their escorts walked forward, and many were the shocked faces as the Selesians laid eyes on Ordin, passing only cursorily over the Robinsons. The ranks parted to allow the captives through, and Ordin and John strode forward like twin ships parting the sea for the rest of the family who followed closely, the Robot bringing up the rear. The throng closed up behind them with a rustling of robes and scuffing of shoes.

They were approaching the far wall of the room. As they got nearer, they could see a raised dais, composed of some stone or rock, brilliantly polished, totally black. It rose several tiers above the level of the floor. On the top platform was a wide throne, almost a couch, seemingly composed of the same matter, but strewn with pillows and blankets for the comfort of the individual seated thereon. An elaborate canopy, supported by ornately carven columns, towered high over the chair. On the columns were depicted motifs of alien creatures of horrific and inhuman countenance, all intertwined amid a riot of snarling teeth, dripping fangs, staring eyes, and outthrust jaws. Black hangings billowed down the wall from ceiling to floor behind the throne, creating the impression of mysterious shadow and impenetrable darkness.

A half dozen steep steps led up to the level upon which the throne stood. Upon these steps were arrayed figures who were draped in golden robes and black conical hats. They all had similar long, gray beards, and watched the approaching Earth party with unblinking eyes of jet. Their folded arms disappeared into the sleeves of their robes, and they seemed to sway slightly from side to side in unison. And yet, in stark contrast to the ominous appearance of the throne and the silent, staring figures surrounding it, the individual reclining amidst the pillows of the imperial chair was absurdly comical and significantly grotesque.

Don was gaping at the creature in shocked disbelief. "What the hell is _that _thing_?_" he finally managed in none too quiet a voice.

"It is Shon-KonDar!" Ordin whispered warningly through clenched teeth. "Beware!"

Shon-KonDar was short, hugely fat, and completely bald. Tiny legs that could not reach the floor dangled in the air like a child's. Pudgy fingers, nearly covered with flashing rings, grasped goblets of liquid in both hands. His paunch was considerable, stretching the fabric of his robes to their limits. Jowls of flesh hung loosely from his face, from which close-set, beady black eyes stared at the prisoners with open malevolence. Shon-KonDar had just lowered one of the cups from his lips, and a copious amount of dark liquid dribbled down his chin to add another stain to many others upon the breast of his robe. Belching loudly, he glowered dully down at the prisoners as they came forward.

The group stopped at Garrak's command at the foot of the dais, and the entire retinue of soldiers dropped to one knee, their faces uplifted towards their ruler. Telmok stood directly in front, but he remained standing upright and faced the god-king.

He raised his hands and bowed deeply, addressing the throne in a deep voice that carried throughout the immense throne room. "Oh Great One, you see before you the traitor Ordin." Murmurs broke out among the throng, and faces were turned to each other in whispered exclamations. "Your long delayed justice has finally caught up to him, as it does to all enemies of your Selesian majesty. A sentence of death is in effect for him. With your permission, my lord, we will execute the sentence forthwith."

Shon-KonDar seemed not to notice, and did not answer. In fact, he appeared not to be paying any attention to either Telmok or Ordin at all. His eyes were sunk so far in his fat face that they could hardly be seen, but his gaze seemed to be fastened with interest on the Robinson family standing behind Ordin.

"Your highness…?" Telmok finally prompted, raising his head from his bow, when the god-king said nothing.

"Where do these _creatures_ come from?" Shon-KonDar finally spoke slowly in a surprisingly squeaky, high-pitched voice.

West made a strangled sound as he, with superhuman effort, swallowed the guffaw that threatened to explode outwards in derisive laughter.

"They are allies of Ordin and enemies of Selesia," Telmok answered, ignoring West's near outburst and straightening from his low bow. "They have given comfort and aid to Ordin. They are spies from another world that is preparing to invade us! They have clearly allied themselves with the Alcandrian renegades in the hopes of usurping…"

"That is not true!" Professor Robinson interrupted, unable to contain his outrage. "We are passing colonists from a world called Earth! We are not spies." The room erupted into strident ejaculations of shock.

Garrak had arisen from his knee and thrust his weapon painfully into John's back. "Do not speak, outworlder!" he bellowed.

Telmok did not turn but kept his face upturned to the god-king. His voice, becoming more smug, carried over the outraged shouts of the crowd. "Indeed, you have heard by this man's own words that they are sending colonists to invade our world!" Telmok puffed himself up self-righteousness. "Your highness! We have uncovered a craven plot against our world, our people, and your divine person itself! The spies must be bled of information to determine the level of threat against Selesia, then put to death. With your permission, we will take them away to begin the interrogation at once."

Shon-KonDar grinned, displaying missing and discolored teeth. He shifted his prodigious weight, slopping more liquid out of his cup and causing a pillow to topple to the floor. A slave scuttled forward to snatch the pillow and carry it away.

"Your highness, what is your command?" Telmok prompted obsequiously when Shon-KonDar still did not answer. "We await your words of justice, Mighty One."

The king licked his lips greedily. "The Son of the Dawn says this," he finally squeaked. "Death to Ordin as the sun banishes the glow from the nebula!" He looked around happily as his gold-robed courtiers murmured their groveling approval. With a tremendous effort, he straightened slightly, waving one of his cups for emphasis. "The alien prisoners are to be removed to the dungeon for interrogation! But!" The crowd leaned forward in rapt anticipation; Shon-KonDar appeared to relish the dramatic effect. "That one," he pointed a quivering hand, still clutching the cup, towards the Robinsons. "The female with the yellow hair!" Judy's eyes flew wide as she realized he was pointing at her. Don looked at her, appalled. "Take her immediately to my seraglio! I desire her for my private amusement." As if with an afterthought, the flabby arm swung over to point again. "And that other one, too, the young brown-haired one!" He was pointing at Penny.

Things started happening all at once.

"What?!" Both Don and John spoke together, startled beyond rational thought.

"Don…?" Judy quavered, clutching Don's arm tighter and looking fearfully up at him.

Penny's eyes went wide with disbelief and terror as she turned to look at her brother, who gazed back at her in total shock.

"You squealing, fat…!" Ordin suddenly began, frothing in dismay and anger. "You foul, groveling, digusting, ugly…" Clenching his fists, he actually started to move menacingly towards the throne.

Alarmed, Selesian soldiers began closing on the group, their rod-weapons bobbing about as they tried to point them in all directions at once. Instantly, the entire crowd erupted in yells of anger and screams of terror.

"No!" Maureen cried, turning and grabbing Penny's and Judy's hands and taking up a position defiantly between them. John swiveled towards his family while Don, his eyes blazing, spread his arms and interposed his body in front of Judy.

"Stay where you are!" Garrak squawked impotently, his voice breaking, as he swung his own weapon about in a frenzy of indecision and panic.

Dr. Smith was backing away from the entire group, his eyes wide with fear, hands outstretched as if to ward off a blow, when suddenly he was pushed aside as the Robot rolled past, his arms waving maniacally "Warning!" the Robot called. "Danger! Defensive circuits activated! Stand back or be destroyed!" Electricity crackled from his claws as he extended his arms towards the aliens.

Shon-KonDar goggled at his prisoners, blanching and drawing back fearfully into the cushions of the throne. "Telmok…!" he moaned in abject terror, staring wildly at his Grand Vizier, who had spun about as the hall boiled in pandemonium.

Garrak swiveled, trying to take aim on the Robot as the nearest threat, and other guards lunged forward, their rods coming to the horizontal. A twisted bolt of electricity shot from the Robot and caught one of the closest Selesian guards in mid-section, sending him flying backwards, his rod-weapon spinning away. Another of the guards let loose a shot. The red ball of energy shot wildly past the Robot to detonate against the distant wall, causing it to explode outwards and raining shards of plaster and rock on to the heads of those directly below it. The courtiers underneath scrambled away, shrieking hysterically and retreating away from what appeared to be an impending bloodbath, the beginnings of an uncontrolled stampede.

"Hold!"

Telmok's deafening bellow overpowered every other sound in the room, echoing off the bare walls. He had leaped several steps higher on the dais and thrust both arms forcefully into the air. At the sound, every single person in the room froze in his tracks, and silence abruptly descended on the multitude. A half dozen guards had also taken up positions on the dais, placing themselves in a protective wall between the throne and the humans at the foot of the dais. The Robinsons were crouched in various defensive attitudes, having instinctively formed a circle, their backs to one another. The remainder of the Selesian guards had moved forward, their weapons trained on the group, menacing whines coming from the packs on their backs as they stood ready to unleash a barrage of deadly energy. The tableau held for several tense moments, with the only sound being soft, whimpering moans coming from the throne of the ruler of Alcandria and a buzzing of electricity emanating from the Robot, whose arms were still extended threateningly.

After a few tense seconds, Telmok spoke carefully in measured tones, his gaze sweeping over the crowd: Terrans, Selesians, and Alcandrians alike. "The Lord of Light, Emperor of the Universe, has spoken. Can anyone here doubt the veracity of his words? When he speaks, it is the word of the gods, and his will is our command!" He glared down at the Earth party. "Obey, now, or be instantly destroyed!"

John had pushed Maureen protectively behind him, who in turn had pushed Judy and Penny behind her. The Professor straightened slowly to his full height, his face grim, his eyes never breaking contact with those of Telmok. "Robot, stand down."

The Robot retracted his arms with a few snaps of residual energy. He was silent for a moment, his eye diodes sweeping over the crowding soldiers. When he responded, there was a dangerous edge to his metallic voice. "I copy your command, Professor Robinson. Defensive systems deactivated."

Telmok's eyes passed over the group. "That is wise. Guards!" Every soldier in the room jerked. Telmok raised an arm, pointing at the humans. "Our god-king has spoken. Take the aliens away as he commanded!"

Soldiers swarmed forward, grasping Judy and Penny in rough hands and pulling them away.

"No! Dad…?" Penny sobbed, extending her hands towards Professor Robinson.

Muscles were working furiously in John's jaw, and his fists were clenched tightly at his side. "Judy," he barked in tones similar to Telmok's, "take care of Penny! Your sister needs you!"

Judy looked wildly at her father as she was herded towards a door to the left of the throne. At the sound of his voice, she seemed to reach into herself, finding a core of staunch resolve, and the transformation was visible and remarkable. The panic vanished from her face; she pushed one of the soldiers away with surprising violence and moved protectively towards Penny, taking her hand.

"Come on, Penny," she said, almost conversationally. "Don't let these pricks see you afraid. We'll stick together. Penny?" She stopped in spite of the pressing guards, taking Penny's chin in her hand and gazing directly into the frightened eyes of her sister. "Come on, now. I'm here for you."

The guards milled about uncertainly, momentarily baffled at being ignored by the two women.

A single tear rolled down Penny's cheek, but she managed a smile. "Okay. I'm okay now."

"Remove them!" Telmok bawled hysterically, enraged at the delay and how foolish his soldiers were now appearing, stymied by two unarmed women. Startled, Shon-KonDar dropped one of his cups with a clatter.

Judy ignored them both, smiling at Penny. "Attagirl. That's showing 'em. Let's go."

Holding hands, the two moved off through the door that had been opened by two of the guards, Judy holding her head high and resolutely staring forward into the darkness beyond.

"Take them away!" the little god-king squeaked timidly from his throne in a transparent need to assert himself. However, as his beady eyes scanned the crowd for approval, he encountered the combined venomous stares of John, Maureen, Don, and Ordin. The god-king of Selesia sank back uncertainly into the cushions of his throne, whimpering again and thrusting his muzzle back into his remaining chalice, drinking noisily while staring over the rim of the cup.

"Bring the captives," Telmok commanded, waving towards another doorway and walking towards it.

The prisoner detail, with the Robinsons completely surrounded, moved off towards the door, and whatever fate awaited them beyond.

* * * *

The cell they were thrust into was small, unkempt, and faintly lit with small rectangular panels recessed into the ceiling. It contained no furniture whatsoever, and seemed to be carven from solid stone. The only access was via the large, barred door. It swung open on rusted hinges that screeched horribly when the door moved, as if the cell had not been used in years. The Selesians forced the Robinsons into the cell, then stepped back as Telmok entered and stood inscrutably surveying the captives, his hands characteristically out of sight within the folds of the voluminous sleeves of his robe. Professor Robinson traded him stare for stare, and said nothing, his own arms folded defiantly across his chest.

Finally, Telmok spoke, enunciating slowly. "The Son of Eternity has commanded that you be interrogated. He feels you have information that might be valuable."

"Tell him nothing," Ordin snarled, standing shoulder to shoulder with John.

"I do not speak to you, rebel," Telmok barked, his eyes passing contemptuously over the Alcandrian. "You would do well to mind your tongue if you wish to prolong the few remaining hours of your life." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Which perhaps might be arranged."

Ordin was about to retort, then stopped short. His eyes narrowed as he looked suspiciously at Telmok. "What do you mean?"

"Information is valuable, especially to one who knows how to use it," Telmok said, then cast his gaze upon John. "Tell me your name."

"I am Professor John Robinson," John answered without elaboration.

Telmok regarded him appraisingly. "You radiate leadership. You would not bend easily to the will of another." His gaze passed over the others standing in the cell: Don, Will, Dr. Smith, Maureen, and even the Robot. "Your defiance infects the others; they take their cues from you and tap into your strength."

"You're damn right…" West bristled, preparing to provide a piece of his own mind, but stopped as John held up a hand.

"Even the young one shows courage in the face of adversity," Telmok continued, ignoring Don and allowing his gaze to pass over Will, observing with some amusement how Will's jaw was set similar to his father's. "However," he continued, looking directly at Dr. Smith, "I sense you are made of different material."

"Why, yes, I am!" Smith smiled, covering his surprise but ever ready to take a situation and turn it to his advantage. "I am Doctor Zachary Smith, at your service." He stepped forward as if distancing himself from the others. "I am the personal physician to this intrepid group of space adventurers. More than once my exhaustive knowledge of the medical field has proven invaluable in saving…"

"I am not interested in a list of your accomplishments," Telmok interrupted impatiently.

"Yes, of course, your Eminence!" Smith said obsequiously, bowing slightly, not in the least discommoded. "As I said, I am entirely at your service." If Smith was aware of the smoldering looks he was receiving from the Robinsons behind him, he ignored them.

Telmok regarded the doctor curiously. "Are you really? What an interesting expression. And how can you be of service to me?"

Dr. Smith stepped closer, sensing an opening. "Why, I have great knowledge, or information, if you wish, that I can provide you! I am a veritable cornucopia of encyclopedic knowledge of all things regarding Earth!"

"Smith," John growled warningly from behind.

"What the hell are you doing?" West snarled, appearing about ready to explode.

"Perhaps we can come to some sort of understanding," Smith continued, gliding forward until he was barely an arm's length away from the vizier. "There is certainly no need for primitive and perhaps _messy _interrogation techniques that would yield dubious information." He straightened. "I should be able to assist you much more directly. If we can come to an agreement, my good sir…?"

Telmok continued to stare. "Go on."

"If I help you in your quest for information, perhaps you could help me…with what I desire?"

Telmok's bushy eyebrows descended warily. "Speak more clearly, alien. What are you offering?"

"Only that I can tell you the exact location of Earth…"

"Shut up, Smith, you idiot!" West interrupted with some heat, causing two of the Selesian guards to shoulder their way back through the doorway and level their weapons threateningly at him.

Dr. Smith's eyes rolled sideways, then back. He spoke in a soft, conspiratorial tone, leaning forward. "Perhaps there is some place we can talk in greater privacy and with fewer interruptions…?"

Telmok's appraising eyes regarded Smith for a few moments. "Very well. You intrigue me. We will talk in my private chambers. The others will remain here. Follow, Doctor Zachary Smith!"

With that, he turned and swept between the guards, who retreated to give him room. As the guards closed around Dr. Smith, who began following closely behind the vizier, he called back over his shoulder, "Don't worry, my friends! I will put in a good word for you…all will work out, you'll see!"

The door clanged shut behind them, and the remainder of the Robinson party were left to themselves. Ordin stared after them.

"What was all that about?" he asked. "What is that Dr. Smith doing?"

"Being Dr. Smith," West shook his head wearily, back from the brink of meltdown. "Who knows? But we can't worry about that right now: we've got to get out of here!" He strode forward to test the bars on the door of their cell. "Robot, can you blast these bars, or pull the door down, or something?"

"The bars are made of an alien alloy," the Robot said, who was standing next to the door. "My sensors tell me they are far denser than tensile steel. I can electrify them with my defensive array, but that is all."

Don rattled the door in frustrated anger. "Well, we've got to do something! They've got Judy and Penny!"

John stared out through the bars, taking Maureen's hand in his. "When we can do something, we will."

* * * *

The two sisters had been escorted through twisting corridors and shadowy hallways to a chamber. Circular in shape and huge in size, it was lit primitively with burning, smoking torches set in niches in the walls. Thick columns lined the walls, supporting a vaulted ceiling high overhead. An ornate, intricately shaped chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, and it held hundreds of flickering candles intermingled with burning tapers of incense. The center of the room directly below this chandelier was occupied by a raised dais, upon which was either an altar, or a bed, upon which was strewn blankets, pillows, and quilts in riotous confusion. A four-poster canopy was set around it, and diaphanous curtains hung from the horizontal supports and wavered gently in the air currents circulating around the vast auditorium-like hall.

Four guards had thrust the two women into the room without ceremony. They then withdrew, shutting the heavy door through which they had come. There was the ominous sound of a latch falling heavily into place, then silence, leaving Judy and Penny standing just inside the door, staring about them warily.

Penny stood close to Judy. "I'm scared!" Her words echoed hollowly in the chamber, causing her to reach for Judy's hand.

Judy was scanning the seemingly empty chamber, taking in the bed, columns, and chandelier. She took Penny's hand and held it reassuringly. "It's okay, Penny. I am, too, but I don't think they mean to harm us." She put as much conviction as she could into that last statement, hoping Penny would not detect how worried she was. She had to use a tremendous effort of will not to add, "…at least, for now."

"I want to go back to Mom and Dad and Will," Penny continued, lowering her voice to a barely audible whisper. "I don't like this place." A noise brought her head up. "What was that?" Her tense attention was drawn abruptly to the raised dais. "Look over there!"

There was vague movement at the far side of the bed. The two Robinsons tensed and moved closer together. Coming from the shadows on the other side of the dais, figures began to appear, one after another, like ghosts materializing from strands of mist. As they rounded the dais and came towards the two Robinsons, their indistinct figures resolved into twenty or thirty women, clad in robes of a silky material that swirled about them as they glided along. They were tall, lithe, and young in appearance, with strong figures barely concealed by their robes and veils. Exotically beautiful, they approached the Robinsons, slowly spreading into a semi-circle around them. The women stopped several feet away and looked them up and down in an appraising way.

Refusing to back away like her instincts were practically screaming at her to do, Judy stood her ground and gave them back stare for stare, compressing her lips in a tight line so that she would not speak first. If this was a battle of wills they wanted, she intended to win it. One arm was rigidly at her side, while the other was wrapped protectively around Penny's shoulders. Both of Penny's arms were around her; Judy could feel her trembling. Yet, Penny uttered not a word or a whimper, which caused Judy a fierce stab of pride, bolstering her own courage against the strange aliens surrounding them in tense silence.

After some moments, one figure detached itself from the center of the group and stepped forward. Tall and elegant, her arms folded within the sleeves of her robe, her slightly slanted eyes regarded Judy and Penny over a veil that concealed the lower half of her face. She spread her arms, and one dainty hand reached up and unfastened the veil at one side. It dropped like a weightless feather, rippling off to one side. She had a perfect complexion, small nose, full lips, and dark eyes enhanced by expertly applied cosmetics. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and Judy gasped in spite of herself.

Her mouth opened; the soft voice that came forth was musical and pleasing to the ear. "You are the aliens we have heard about?"

Judy paused before answering, then raised her head deliberately and spoke in a measured tone. "We are from a planet called Earth. I am Judy Robinson, and this is my sister, Penny. And you…?"

The speaker spread her arms, taking in the other women surrounding her. "We are the chosen ones. We stand in the light of the Son of the Dawn, and serve him!" She paused. "I am Iscandria, the First and Most Beloved. You are here to join us in servitude towards our lord and master."

"What do you mean, serve?" Judy asked casually, already knowing the answer, but playing for time while she tried to figure out what to do next.

Iscandria cocked her head, as if the answer was obvious. "We are his comfort, and his release. We are his inspiration, and his beloved. We are his sanctuary, and his most prized possessions." She waved a hand, indicating the raised dais behind her. "We serve him there. As you will, also. I welcome you to the seraglio of Shon-KonDar the Magnificent."

"I think not!" the words came contemptuously and from the heart, before Judy even had a chance to think about them. "That may be all well and good for you, but Penny and I have no intention of serving that toad-thing you call a god in any way, shape, or form!"

There was a collective gasp, and several of the women fell back, dismayed at Judy's heresy. Whispered voices rose up in scandalized imprecations, but Iscandria merely smiled.

When she spoke, the whisperings of the others died away. "As aliens, you cannot be expected to know the proper manners and exercise the decorous behavior as befitting the members of the Master's seraglio, but you will learn. I will teach you. First, we shall remove those unsuitable garments you wear, and dress you like ourselves, in attire appropriate to your new station in life. Come with me." She turned and glided away, her slippered feet making not a sound on the tiled floor. The remaining women moved aside but continued to watch the Robinsons.

Judy stubbornly stood her ground. Iscandria had gone several steps, then stopped. She stood for a moment, facing away, then her head turned fractionally.

"Come, now." A hint of impatience had crept into her voice.

Penny looked up at her sister, watching as the jaw muscles in Judy's face worked. Iscandria stood very still, her back to them, and a hush settled over the entire group.

Iscandria spoke again, softly, but with an undercurrent of menace. "Punishment here is swift and painful. This will be the only warning I give you out of consideration for your lack of knowledge of our customs. Do not provoke me again." Her face turned ahead and she began walking away. The remaining women stood stock-still, their glittering eyes fastened on the two Robinsons.

Judy looked down at Penny, concern for her sister warring with her stubborn streak. Finally, her shoulders sagged, and she spoke resignedly. "Come on, Penny. Let's see what they've got."

"But…" Penny began uncertainly, looking at the ring of females surrounding them.

"It's all we can do right now," Judy said, raising her head, her eyes fastening on Iscandria's retreating back. "Let's go with the flow for now, and then, well, we'll see."

"Okay."

Setting their faces, they stepped forward after Iscandria, and the ranks of the other women closed up behind them.

* * * *

Hours had passed and the day had already progressed far into Alcandria's bright morning. Daylight, however, was unknown in the deep dungeons of Shon-KonDar's castle where the Robinsons fretted away the hours in captivity.

Will heard the approaching contingent first. "Dad!" he said, rising up on his elbows from where he had lain, resting his head on Maureen's lap. "Someone's coming!"

John was sitting on the floor next to his wife, his back against the dank wall of the dungeon, his head nodding. His arm was around Maureen's shoulders as he had been trying to protect her back against the hardness of the wall. At Will's call, he jerked up and straightened painfully. "How's that, son?" he asked in a daze.

"I think there's someone coming…down the hall!"

Ordin materialized like a ghost from one of the shadowy corners, his face drawn with fatigue. "The boy's right, I hear them, too. It must be well past dawn. They are late to take me to my execution." He shook his head as if mildly annoyed. "How very unprofessional."

Major West, who had been sitting on the floor next to John, scrambled to his feet in a burst of explosive energy. "Ain't gonna happen!" He turned to the Robot, who was standing nearby, his console lights blinking in the semi-gloom. "Robot, energize defenses! Take position to the left of the door." He moved to the right of the door while the Robot rolled obediently to the left. "John, I'll take this side, and when they come in…"

John waved a hand wearily, climbing laboriously to his feet and extending a hand down to help Maureen to hers. "We are hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned. It's not time yet."

"But…!"

"Let's just see what's up. Easy now…here they come!"

They watched through the bars as a contingent of soldiers, armored and armed with their rods, marched into view and stopped a few feet away from the cell. They recognized Garrak, who stepped forward with a handful of keys.

Maureen spoke boldly. "Where are my daughters?"

"Stand away from the door!" Garrak commanded, ignoring her and waving the Robinsons away, then began fumbling with the lock. With a great jangling of keys, he finally got the door unlocked and swung it open. He filled the open door with his menacing girth and waved at them. "All of you will now come with us!"

"Where are you taking us?" West demanded, his fists clenching tightly.

Garrak lowered his rod-weapon so that it aimed point blank at West's chest. "Silence! No questions. You will come, now. Move!" He walked into the cell and stood aside, waving his rod to indicate they should all exit.

"Your time will come, pal," West assured him, his voice dripping with venom, as he passed Garrak, who snarled right back and prodded him with his weapon.

John watched carefully over his shoulder as his family followed him out of the cell. The Robot rolled past Garrak without the Selesian making the slightest comment. Knowing the captain had already seen the Robot in action, John had been certain he would not allow the Robot to accompany them, but that was not the case. However, more of the rod weapons appeared trained closely on the Robot rather than his family, and, for this, he was grateful.

The soldiers closed around the Robinson party and they set off through the unending, twisting corridors and echoing chambers that were lit irregularly with smoking torches. They walked for some time, no one saying a word, until they finally came to a large double-valved door set within an ornate lintel. Bright daylight was coming underneath the door and along the jambs, and a low murmur, as from the combined voices of a multitude, could be heard beyond the portal. Garrak had a brief, whispered conversation with one of his men, who then trotted off and up some nearby stairs. The group stood silently for some minutes until the guard clattered back down the stairs, approached Garrak, and saluted.

"They are ready for them," he said.

Garrak nodded and turned to the prisoners. "The Son of Heaven commands your presence, for his entertainment as well as those of his people. Do not disappoint!" He turned to a guard standing ready at the side of the door. "Open the doors!"

At that, the addressed Selesian reached over and pulled a huge lever protruding from the floor immediately next to the doors. There was a loud, metallic clank, as if a powerful locking mechanism had released. Then, with the assistance of another soldier, the two Selesians yanked both doors open, flooding the chamber with bright morning light and a great roar. Everyone blinked furiously at the sudden illumination after so many hours in darkness, but Garrak bellowed impatiently at them to walk forward into what was unquestionably a stadium.

"Well, this can't be good," West spoke conversationally as he strode forward, gazing about with curiosity once his eyes accustomed themselves to the bright morning light.

It was a coliseum on an immense scale. Tiers of seats towered up into the sky, forming concentric circles around the broad, dusty field that formed the floor of the stadium. Thousands of people lined the benches, and a great babble of voices rose into the air, combining into the steady, low-pitched roar that had assailed the Robinson's ears when the entry doors had opened. Standing shoulder to shoulder or sitting in tight ranks, gesticulating violently and shouting with wild abandon, the common folk of Alcandria were garbed in drab robes and wraps of various colors, but mostly browns and grays that flapped in the breeze.

Around the stadium at ground level were four massive arches set symmetrically about the oval structure. Socializing amiably under the cool shade of these arches were what appeared to be the wealthy aristocracy of this world. Bedecked in flowing robes and winking gemstones, they were seated in ornate chairs and served by scurrying slaves bearing trays of food and drink. Much more reserved and cultured than the common, mostly ragged folk in the stands, they chatted pleasantly with one another even as they leaned forward to observe and comment on the entrance of the Earth party.

One of these arches was set directly across the stadium floor, opposite the doors from which the Robinsons had emerged. It was larger and more flashily ornate than the other three arches, and it was towards this particular arch that the prisoners were directed. In the center of this arch and set upon a raised dais of black, glossy stone was the throne of Shon-KonDar. It was a huge chair, made of the same black stone as the dais and similar in design to the one the Robinsons had seen in the throne room the previous night. Four columns, densely encrusted with flaming gemstones, flanked the chair and supported a filmy canopy high overhead.

Shon-KonDar himself lolled in the chair, his regal bottom and back sunk deeply into a riotous collection of tasseled pillows. He was dressed in a multi-colored robe, the hues of which clashed violently with each other. He wore a small dagger on his waist, a tiny helmet was perched at a ridiculous angle on his bulbous head, and his legs stuck straight out from the chair like a child's. His pudgy fingers were practically invisible under scores of gaudy rings, and enormous hoop earrings hung heavily from his overly stretched earlobes. In one hand, he apathetically waved a diminutive sword, more like a plaything. In the other hand, he gripped a huge cup of wine that slaves kept refilled when it was not thrust into his royal mouth, which it often seemed to be.

Arranged about him, in descending order upon the tiers of the dais, was the ruling class of Alcandria. All men, they were garbed in robes of a gray color, as if to distinguish them from Shon-KonDar's ostentatious plumage. They reclined on lounge chairs set well under the shade, surrounded by scampering slaves who ensured that their masters had plenty to eat and drink. All about them were flagstaffs bearing standards and flags that flapped lazily in the breeze. Uniformed Selesian soldiers stood attentively throughout the arch, their rod weapons slung on their shoulders.

There was one other notable group clustered under Shon-KonDar's arch. They were all women, standing at one side of the arch in a tight cluster. They were dressed in long, flowing, white robes from neck to foot. Some wore silky veils of the same color that covered the lower portions of their faces. All wore conical hats of different sizes that seemed to indicate their relative status; the tallest hats stood up front, while those with smaller hats stood submissively further back. All stood silently, their hands clasped over their chests in formal attitudes of worshipful obedience, their eyes straight ahead. They drank and ate nothing; the serving slaves gave them a wide berth.

As they drew near the royal box, Maureen lifted her head to John and spoke loudly over the noise of the crowd. "John! Look at those women to the left! I think I see Judy!"

"Yes," John answered tightly.

Several rows back, they could see Judy's trademark blonde hair shining like a beacon in the uncertain shadows of the arch. She was also dressed in the white robe-uniform of the seraglio, and a small, simple turban was perched on her head. Unlike the other women who were standing ramrod straight, Judy was leaning to one side and bobbing slightly, as if to draw their attention to her.

"Do you see Penny?" Maureen asked worriedly, her eyes sweeping the group.

John shook his head. "No, but I'm sure she's in there somewhere. Judy wouldn't let her sister out of her sight…or protection."

"Dad, look!" Will pointed. "There's Dr. Smith!"

Standing next to Shon-KonDar's throne was Telmok, who silently observed the approach of the prisoners, his hands hidden as usual within the sleeves of his robe. However, standing next to Telmok was the familiar figure that had caught Will's attention: Dr. Zachary Smith. He was standing in a posture similar to Telmok's, his hands within the sleeves of a plain Selesian robe, without gems, but a pace or two back from the Grand Vizier. Dr. Smith also watched the approach of the party, his lips turned upwards in a smug smile.

"What's Dr. Smith doing there?" Will asked.

Don snorted derisively, shaking his head. "Well, now doesn't _that_ just figure. Looks like our good Dr. Smith has gone over to the enemy camp. Again!"

"Dr. Smith attends to his own agenda, as usual," the Robot commented philosophically as he rolled along next to Will, trailing a small cloud of dust.

"This is ridiculous!" Maureen exclaimed, her blue eyes flashing angrily. "We have no quarrel with these people for them to treat us this way!"

John glanced down at his wife, not for the first time admiring her fire and passion. "I know, darling. We'll get out of this yet."

"Damn right," Don chimed in with vast confidence, as if already planning how to take on the entire hostile planet single-handedly. He cocked a chin to one side. "But, what the hell do you think _that_ is for?"

He was indicating what appeared to be a huge pit yawning incongruously in the white sand of the stadium. Easily thirty or forty feet in diameter and fairly circular, it was an immense hole. No fence or guard rail surrounded it, and an incautious person could easily fall in if he was not watching his footing. Its sheer sides seemed to extend straight down into the ground, vanishing out of sight so that its depth was unknown.

"Wonder what's down there?" Don continued, more curious than troubled. Ordin opened his mouth to respond, but, before he could comment, the escorting soldiers yelled for silence and began prodding them into a ragged line facing the throne.

Meanwhile, under the arch, Telmok leaned back and spoke quietly to Smith out of the corner of his mouth. "You have assured me your fellow aliens will give a proper showing of themselves for the people. I am depending on this information."

"Oh, yes!" Smith agreed wholeheartedly, smiling broadly. "As I told you, Professor Robinson himself is a warrior of great renown on our world. He will make a fine accounting for himself, and give great entertainment to your people! The other, Major West, is a military man and has many tricks up his sleeve. The others…"

"I trust you are right," Telmok interrupted impatiently, raising a hand. "Shon-KonDar is particular in his need for exciting viewing. However, if not," he shrugged, "our gladiators will make short work of them and we can get on with further planned entertainment."

"Yes, yes, of course, your eminence!" Smith backpedaled agreeably. However, when he spoke next, he allowed a pleading note to creep into his voice. "But the small one, the boy, Will. Surely he does not have to participate…?"

Telmok shrugged again, disinterestedly. "He is a member of your alien band, so he is as guilty as all of them are. There will be no exceptions."

"But, surely…?" Smith stammered distraughtly.

The Vizier turned away with another indifferent wave of his hand, dismissing Smith's concerns and leaving the doctor visibly agitated. Telmok then strode forward, his gait formal, to the front of the dais and directly in front of the throne. He stopped and faced the stadium, allowing his gaze to pass slowly over the multitude, whose yelling and screaming had continued unabated for the entire time. He slowly and dramatically lifted a hand. As if that casually given signal carried disproportionate power--or was expected--the throng broke off their noise-making and took their seats as one. An immediate quiet settled over the stadium. There was no sound except Shon-KonDar, who slurped noisily at his drink, his beady eyes expectant over the rim of his cup, and the faint cracking of flags and standards blowing in the slight breeze.

"People of Alcandria!" Telmok cried, his sonorous voice rolling throughout the stadium and filling the sudden silence. "The Son of the Dawn has proclaimed a contest for your amusement! Ordin, the traitor and rebel, stands before you, convicted of gross treason against his anointed ruler and master. His guilt is unquestioned, and he shall be dealt with as his crimes demand." He paused, his eyes sweeping the crowd. "Also, you see before you the advance scouts from the world called Earth who threaten the very life of our king with destruction and our world with invasion! We have thwarted their efforts! We are strong and invincible, and the Earthmen tremble before our divinely ordained power!"

He stopped as a mighty cheer swept the stadium and the crowd boiled to their feet. He allowed it to continue for some moments. John folded his arms across his chest, unimpressed and unfazed, and calmly watched Telmok. Don's hands were on his hips in his characteristic belligerent stance, and a faint look of contemptuous amusement was on his face. Ordin scowled and was no less defiant, his brow darkened by ancestral hate as his gaze bored into Shon-KonDar. Maureen took the same stance as her husband, and even Will thrust his chin out in a truculent manner that would have been comical in any other context. The Robot surveyed the stadium dispassionately, his arms retracted; whatever was going through his electronic mind, none could say. Shon-KonDar, the Emperor of the Universe and Infinite God-King, grinned brainlessly, waving his little sword like a demented child.

Telmok's hand came up again, and the crowd quieted and resumed their seats. He continued. "Our Dear Leader has decided that these criminals will not meet their just punishment at the capable hands of the royal executioners. Nay, in his infinite wisdom, he has decreed that they will die in battle, at the sword points of our bravest warriors, who demand vengeance for their brothers lost in the cowardly raids and attacks from the despicable Sons of Orpheus, devils incarnate!"

Once more, the crowd came to their feet in thunderous applause and loud shouts of approval. In scanning the stadium, John began to discern knots of individuals who were not cheering quite as loud as their neighbors, but seemed to be waving their arms half-heartedly, as if compelled against their will. Others were actually sitting and staring morosely out over the stadium, their brows furrowed in disapproval and fury. These, John supposed, were the native Alcandrians who had been forced to come to watch the spectacle by their Selesian overseers. Clearly, the Selesian occupation of Alcandria was not a done deal, by any means. John mused over this bit of information, storing it away for future reference and returning his attention to Telmok, who was gesticulating again.

The Vizier silenced the crowd with another wave. "You know our valiant gladiators, they are your heroes! But permit me to honor them, and introduce them, one at a time, as befits true icons of the royal stadium of Alcandria! First, let us summon forth the ferocious, the unmerciful, the undefeated: Ca-Val!"

The crowd erupted again as a hidden door to one side of the arch sheltering the throne swung open, and a hulking gladiator swaggered out. He was not particularly tall, but he was broad, and carried himself with arrogant confidence. He was bare-chested above a short skirt composed of overlapping leather strips that surrounded his waist down to about knee level. He wore metal gauntlets over his hands and an ornate helmet over his head that covered his nose and cheeks down to his neck. Glittering eyes stared belligerently from between the nose guard, and his grin was toothy and expansive. Leather boots encased his feet and shins. He carried a sword in one hand, and, in the other, a shield that shimmered strangely, as if pulsing with some inner energy. He waved jauntily to the cheering crowd with his sword, basking in their obvious adoration. He paraded in front of the throne, bowed low to Shon-KonDar while dipping his sword, then turned back to face the crowd, his feet planted shoulder-length apart. He thrust his sword into the sand, placed his hands over the pommel, and regarded the prisoners balefully.

"Next," Telmok continued, "welcome the hero of the Second Alcandrian War of Attrition, a man who single-handedly slaughtered the resistance cell during the bloody siege of Elron. You know him, you love him: Anton Demelon, the Battler!"

A second gladiator emerged from the darkness of the still open doorway, waving at the cheering crowd, raising his sword in a tightly clenched fist. He was taller than Ca-Val, and his deeply scarred body was practically devoid of any armor at all. In fact, other than a short skirt of overlapping metal plates around his waist and well-worn leather sandals on his feet, he was essentially naked. Unlike Ca-Val, he carried no shield. He stepped out smartly, grinning at the crowd, then paused to stoop low in salute to Shon-KonDar, who acknowledged him with a slight wave of his diminutive sword. Demelon then pivoted around to face the stadium, stood next to Ca-Val, and thumbed his sword expectantly.

"And finally," Telmok cried as the crowd settled down again, "we have with us today the governor of Maldak Island himself, the scourge of the Battle of Anteron, the executor of the Alcandrian cowards from the Brachinian Trench. Give voice in tribute to the staunchest protector of your king…Soretoon the Magnificent!"

The third warrior emerged to the roaring ovation. He was the shortest of the three, but far broader, and lumbered along like a rolling tank. He was unsmiling and grim, staring at the Robinsons with dark, malevolent eyes, unheeding of the cheers and adulation from the crowd. An overhanging brow gave him a distinctly primitive look, cruel and dangerous; his shaven head gleamed in the sunlight. A ragged beard nearly covered the slit of his mouth. He was garbed in a black, one-piece jumpsuit that was relieved only by an ornate seal on the left breast which seemed to be a political badge of office. He wore black boots that came halfway up his calves, and he carried a curving sword that glinted brightly in the sun. He marched forward stiffly until he took his place next to the other two combatants, either forgetting or deliberately eschewing the need to salute his monarch, glaring straight ahead at the Robinsons with single-minded menace. Shon-KonDar clapped gleefully like an imbecile child, sloshing his wine about and staining his robe, taking no note of Soretoon's apparent breach of stadium protocol.

"Moe, Larry and Curly," West commented cynically to John over the continuing noise. "Stooges, all."

Ordin glanced over at his friends. "This is not good. All three are brutal killers, butchers! They have never been defeated, either in battle or in contest!"

"Well," Don snarled, cracking his knuckles and not the least cowed, "they've never been pitted against Earthmen before. Bring 'em on!"

Maureen drew Will against her in a tight embrace as she surveyed the hostile audience and the killers standing before them. When she spoke to her husband, her voice was steady. "John? What are we going to do?"

The Professor took a moment to gaze down into the eyes of his wife, but, when he spoke, it was not to her. "Robot!" The Robot was standing next to Will; his twin eye diodes swiveled towards John. "You will protect Maureen and Will at all costs. You will stand with them and handle any threat, in any fashion you deem appropriate. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," the Robot responded simply. "Protect Mrs. Robinson and Will against all threats. I am activating defensive systems." He extended his claws. "Power levels at seventy-eight percent. I am ready."

The crowd continued to roar and scream, while Telmok seemed to ignore the prisoners while he haughtily surveyed the stadium, letting the mob carry on.

"Tell the Robot to help _you_!" Maureen had to practically yell to John over the tumult. "He can take all three of those gladiator-people out right now!"

"Then, what?" John answered grimly. "They'll bring some more thugs out, or mow us down from a distance right where we stand with those weapons of theirs." He shook his head. "No, let's just play their game for now. The Robot will be your protection, as well as our reserve."

"Give them weapons," Telmok suddenly screamed over the noise of the crowd, "and let the contest begin!" He turned on his heel and walked back to the dais, stepping regally past the waiting gladiators who stood aside to allow him to pass.

As he retreated into the shade of the arch, slaves on either side of the throne dashed forward and threw three long swords towards the Robinson party. The weapons were long and thin, not quite broadswords, but with a double-sided cutting edge that glinted sharply in the sun. The swords slid forward, spinning along the ground and kicking up dust, while the slaves sprinted back under the shadows of the arch. Despite the peril of their situation, Professor Robinson looked down at the weapons near his feet with the interest of a connoisseur, noting their clean lines, ornate hilts, and carefully sharpened edges. These were true weapons, not just for show, and he nodded to himself in appreciation of the obvious craftsmanship.

He started to bend down to pick one up when bloodcurdling shrieks caused him to bring his head back up with a jerk. All three gladiators were hurtling towards them, shouting war cries and whirling their own weapons over their heads.

At the same moment, Ordin pushed past the Professor, snatched one of the weapons from the ground, and shouted over his shoulder at the two Earth explorers. "Swords up, my friends, this is it! Fight for your lives! I have Soretoon."

Both John and Don dove for their swords, scooped them up, and sprang forward in Ordin's wake as the Alcandrian leaped forward to meet the advancing gladiators. Ordin was yelling and brandishing his own sword over his head, his eyes already blazing with fighting madness.

"You've got the one on the left!" John shouted, pointing. "I'm taking the center!"

The three men separated, John heading for Demelon, West for Ca-Val, and Ordin for Soretoon. Even as he dashed forward to join battle, John, an expert fencer from his university days, noted how the sword felt comfortable and balanced in his hand. He raised it to meet a furious downward stroke coming from Demelon and was tremendously heartened at the loud, solid "clang" his weapon made as it contacted that of the enraged Selesian. As the gladiator charged past carried by his great momentum, Robinson let loose a vicious backhanded swipe that would have landed squarely on the giant's back had Demelon not pivoted in surprise and awkwardly knocked the blow aside. John pressed the attack, raining serious blows on the scrambling warrior who had anticipated only an easy victory and a swift, if bloody, kill.

At the same time, Don launched himself furiously at Ca-Val, and their swords clashed together with a ringing sound that could be heard above the noise of the hysterical crowd, who were back on their feet, yelling and gesticulating. Major West was not as accomplished a fencer as Professor Robinson, but, in the rough and tumble of a fight-to-the-death, his natural military instincts and pent-up fury at their treatment gave him great strength and dexterity. Both West and Ca-Val fought closely, their feet raising clouds of dust, their swords whirling and singing through the air, their faces snarling images of ferocity.

Ordin, his eyes wild with berserker fury and deep-seated hate, swung his weapon like a deranged maniac against the curved sword of Governor Soretoon. Soretoon's bearded face was convulsed in a mask of contempt and hostility as he tried to beat down Ordin's thrusts and score the single, fatal blow that would end the contest between the two of them.

The six men had separated into three desperate battles, and the stadium had erupted into frothing pandemonium. Alcandrian and Selesian onlookers alike were on their feet as they realized this was not going to be simple, tedious butchery, which many had been expecting from so many previous, similar occasions. The aliens were fighting back and the outcome appeared to be extended, if not uncertain!

Leaping and dancing, the years seemed to fall off John Robinson as he wove a complex tapestry of steel before the astonished eyes of Demelon. Dust and sand were getting kicked up as the combatants danced and stamped their way around each other, their whickering blades missing each other by fractions of an inch. Amazed though he might have been, Demelon recovered very quickly as he pressed his own attack, furious at the impudence of the outworlder to challenge him in his own stadium. His battling style was very basic, but he possessed an animal strength that allowed him to cut and parry unrelentingly, smashing back John's ripostes and probing for any weakness. Yet, John was holding his own, calling upon reserves of strength and pulling out every trick he possessed as he fought for his life.

Meanwhile, Don and Ca-Val were locked in their own fight for survival. Ca-Val used his sword and shield in such a way that kept West in constant motion, forcing Don to divide his attention between watching his foe's eyes, to anticipate his moves, and avoid both the thrust of the sword and the odd way Ca-Val waved his flashing shield before him, as if to distract him.

Suddenly, Ca-Val's foot swept out unexpectedly and took Don's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground, where he landed painfully on his back with a grunt. The crowd screamed their approval and Ca-Val reared up for the final stroke, targeting Don's exposed head. However, Ordin, fighting nearby and seeing Don's danger, impulsively swiveled away from Soretoon, rotating his entire body so that the flat of his sword struck with frightful force against Ca-Val's helmet like a mallet. Reeling from the impact and overbalancing, Ca-Val caromed away, crashing into Demelon, and both warriors fell to the ground in a confused tangle of arms, legs, and swords. Momentarily surprised at the abrupt cessation of his own fight, Robinson staggered backwards, breathing heavily and staring at the two cursing gladiators flailing about comically on the ground.

Meanwhile, West rolled, gathered his feet under him, and launched up with a yell of warning to Ordin. Soretoon had seen an opening when Ordin turned aside to help Don. His mouth gaping and his beard wagging, the governor was charging with his curved sword upraised high to smite Ordin on his unprotected head. Yelling at the top of his lungs, West pounded past a surprised Ordin, shoving him violently aside with his open hand and sending him windmilling backwards. Hurtling like a juggernaut, his head lowered, Don ran directly at the gladiator, who was rushing in single-minded fashion towards Ordin, focusing only on aiming at the center of the Alcandrian's head. The two met in a terrific impact, Don's head contacting squarely with the charging warrior's abdomen. The gladiator's eyes bulged in shock and pain as the breath whistled out of his lungs, and he doubled up, the momentum of Don's rush sending both men stumbling backwards. Somehow, Soretoon kept his footing as West spun clear, off balance and falling to his knees. Gasping and wheezing, the governor straightened and half turned towards Don, but, at that instant, twisted arcs of blue-white electricity unexpectedly knifed through the air and struck Soretoon in his side. He went head over heels to land heavily, his spinning body kicking up a great cloud of dust and dirt. He lay unmoving in a great heap. The crowd erupted in angry catcalls and a roar of disapproval.

"Nice shot!" West yelled appreciatively from where he sprawled on the ground, grinning hugely through the dust and sweat caked on his face.

"Attaboy, Robot!" Will cheered, dancing crazily behind the Robot. "That showed 'em!"

"The shot was there, so I took it," the Robot said almost uncomfortably, as if guilty at ignoring Professor Robinson's previous instructions to protect only Maureen and Will.

"Well, take another one!" Maureen urged eagerly, watching the five remaining combatants warily circling each other across the field from them.

"Do not let that machine do that again," Telmok called calmly to several soldiers nearby, who turned expectantly towards him. "You four go out there and watch them closely. If the machine tries to interfere again, destroy it."

The four chosen Selesian troopers ran out into the stadium, giving the combatants a wide berth, and took up stances directly across from Maureen, Will and the Robot, pointing their rod-weapons threateningly at them.

"Do not move!" one of the Selesians commanded.

Dr. Smith moved quickly to make some excuses to Telmok for the Robot's behavior, but was shocked to see the Vizier's lips curled in a self-satisfied smile.

"Grand Vizier!" Smith began to grovel. "I do sincerely apologize…"

Telmok leisurely raised a hand and spoke pleasantly. "No need. I have seen what I wanted to confirm." He clasped his hands together, as if in ecstasy, speaking more to himself than to Smith. "That machine is glorious! I must have more. After the match, we will disassemble it to find out how it works, and we will make an army of them to forward Shon Kon-Dar's march to ultimate dominion!"

"Well, I certainly…" Smith stuttered doubtfully. "Why, yes, your Eminence! Of course, I'm, er, sure that could be arranged if you would consider what we discussed earlier?" He trailed off when Telmok continued ignoring him.

Meanwhile, as this was going on, the two Earth sisters were craning around the other women of Shon-KonDar's seraglio. Judy and Penny were having a difficult time seeing the action because the women had abandoned their rigid formation and were milling about. The concubines were enthralled with the action occurring on the stadium grounds, and appeared so taken up with the excitement pulsing throughout the stadium that they were forgetful of their required decorum.

"What happened?" Penny said impatiently, shifting from foot to foot and standing on tiptoe, trying unsuccessfully to get a better view. She was also dressed in the flowing robes of the seraglio and wore a small turban on her head and tiny sandals on her feet. "I can't see anything!"

"The Robot got one of them!" Judy yelled triumphantly. "That'll teach 'em!" she hollered, ignoring the stern looks she received from two of the women standing nearest them.

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

"I can't think of anything right now, but I'm working on it," Judy answered, chewing on her lower lip and resuming her study of a sack lying on the floor behind where Dr. Smith and Telmok stood. The bag had been dropped there by one of the Selesian soldiers with whispered words to Telmok. Telmok had waved a hand dismissively, concentrating on the exhibition, and the soldier had retreated, leaving the bag discarded and ignored, but partially open. Protruding from the open end was something that looked suspiciously like the hilt of one of their laser pistols. Curious at the transfixed expression on her sister's face, Penny followed her gaze.

"Hey, look at…" she began loudly, her hand coming up and pointing as she saw what Judy was staring at.

"Shhh," Judy shushed, grabbing Penny's hand and lowering it, cocking her chin ahead.

Iscandria, who was standing at the front of her ranks of concubines, had turned around and looked reproachfully over her shoulder at the two Earth women, her eyes narrowing. Judy merely smiled with overly exaggerated sweetness. Iscandria turned back, and Judy's smile instantly vanished.

"Bitch," she muttered through clenched teeth. Penny giggled, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. Judy looked down at her sister, her eyes sparkling with the shared jest.

Over near the throne, Telmok leaned back to address Dr. Smith. "They are good fighters," he said, keeping his eyes on the circling men in the stadium. "I must say, I was not expecting such a stimulating contest." He glanced over at Shon-KonDar, who had actually leaned forward to the extent his bulk would allow, clearly excited and thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.

"I knew they would please you," Smith said airily, then leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. "But, as I began to say before: when can we resume our talks about my desire for transport to Earth? Perhaps later today…?"

"Not now," Telmok waved his hand impatiently, recoiling slightly at Smith's closeness. "This is not the time. I have still not decided if I am going to help you. We have more to discuss about this world of yours and the opportunity to extend Shon-KonDar's empire."

"Yes, yes, of course, your Eminence!" Smith backed off, glaring in some annoyance at the back of Telmok's head.

Out on the sun-drenched stadium floor, John, Don, and Ordin were warily facing off against Demelon and Ca-Val, who had regained their feet and were staring at their opponents with death burning in their eyes. The Selesians knew they had lost face with the crowd, to say nothing of their embarrassment before their king, and that only fanned the fires of their rage even further.

"Come on, you losers! Wimps!" Don taunted above the clamor of the horde and shaking his sword. "Is that all you've got? Is that all you've got!?" He tossed his head contemptuously as the two Selesians held back momentarily but began moving apart, plotting their approach. He spared a glance sideways at the Professor, who was still breathing heavily. "You all right, John?"

Watching his adversaries carefully, he was bent over, hands on knees, taking advantage of the momentary respite. John nodded ruefully. "Yeah. Just a little winded."

"Stand ready!" Ordin panted, some of the berserker haze gone from his eyes and replaced with fatigue. He was watching as Ca-Val stalked to the left. "They will attack again!"

"Yeah," Don growled, "but now it's three against two." He risked a glance at Soretoon on the ground nearby, who was stirring with returning consciousness.

"Then," Ordin exclaimed, "let's not wait!" And, bellowing with a war cry, he leaped forward to engage Demelon and Ca-Val, taking all the combatants by surprise.

"Dammit," Don cursed as he sprang after him. John straightened hastily and lunged towards the brawlers, raising his sword wearily but with determination.

Back under the royal arch, Dr. Smith had eased back from Telmok's side, looking around him apprehensively as if he was debating a rash and uncharacteristic course of action. All the Selesians around the throne focused lustfully on the stadium floor as the combatants closed with each other again, and none had any attention to spare to watch his movements. Smith shuffled backwards until he felt his foot touch the sack the Selesian soldier had brought earlier. His eyes rolled towards Judy; she was watching him intently from her position behind the other women of the seraglio. Penny realized her sister's attention was focused on something within the arch, rather than outside of it, and followed her gaze to stare also. Smith made an exaggerated nod towards the sack, rolling his eyes beneath his severely upraised eyebrows. Judy was uncertain what he was driving at, but nonetheless inclined her head in a silent acknowledgement and narrowed her eyes questioningly. Then, in a completely unexpected move, Smith shoved the sack hard with the back of his foot, sending it spinning towards Judy. It stopped about halfway between them and, sure enough, a United States standard-issue military-specification laser gun slid out of the open end of the sack and lay inertly on the floor.

"Do something!" Smith screamed hysterically at her, his face twisted in a grimace of panic.

Taken completely by surprise, Judy stood, frozen like a statue, her eyes locked on the gun-metal gray shape that was the laser. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The roar from the crowd became muted. Several of the surrounding Selesians, including Shon-KonDar, turned in a strange slow motion, drawn by Smith's high pitched yell. Unaccountably, some of the women of the seraglio turned to stare curiously at Judy, as if they were anticipating some action on her part.

Judy began turning in that same slow motion, her robes rippling about her body as if she was under water. Her vision seemed to gray at the sides, but the laser pistol stood out in crystalline detail. She could make out the non-skid surface on the grip, the silver trigger, the gray barrel encircled with small disks near the end, and even the serial number stamped along the back of the handgrip. In her dreamlike state, she wondered why such technicalities would be so compelling. At the same time, she realized the gun was getting closer to her, becoming larger in her vision as if she was looking through a camera lens that was zooming towards its objective. Then, she realized it was not the gun that was getting bigger; it was she who was getting closer.

Judy had a brief impression of Penny's startled eyes as she swept past her little sister, her robes trailing behind her in a wind-blown train of silk. As if her limbs were being commanded from somewhere outside her own mind, Judy found herself moving fluidly towards the gun. Time remained suspended, the silence eerie, and she was the only sentient being in motion, perhaps in the whole universe. Her entire concentrated attention was focused on that gun, and drawn to it. She knew intrinsically that she was running, she could feel her feet moving, but she felt like she was swimming through a liquid that imparted a dream-like floating sensation to her movements.

Startled, she saw her hand emerge out in front of her. Had she commanded the gesture? Her hand was reaching for the gun on the ground. Then, as if she experienced a jump cut in a movie, she found herself standing upright, the gun nestled in her open palm. For a fraction of a second and still locked in that strange slow-motion effect of time, she stared at the weapon, amazed no one had reacted yet to stop her. What to do now? She felt herself look up slowly to lock gazes with Dr. Smith, whose mouth was frozen open in shock, his eyes big as saucers, his eyebrows climbing the furrows on his forehead, his hands fluttering at his sides. She gazed about and saw dozens of surprised, gawking faces staring at her, while more were turning in her direction.

Then, without warning, time resumed its normal course, the roar of the crowd came back in all of its deafening volume, and people started moving again

As if the resumption of normal time stimulated Judy to action--or was her subconscious decision to act the catalyst that brought her back into real time?--she hauled back like a pitcher in a baseball game. Impulsively, hardly knowing what she was doing, she threw the laser with all her might into the stadium, uttering a guttural yell that welled up from deep within her throat. The gun soared over the heads of the shocked imperial watchers, who gazed dumbfounded as the weapon arced far out into the stadium. As the weapon came spinning out of the shadows of the arch, thousands of pairs of eyes from the crowd were drawn to it, in spite of the intensity of the action occurring on the field of battle. The laser struck the ground on its grip, cartwheeled along for a short distance, and finally clattered to a halt in a small cloud of dust. It came to a rest about midway between the battling men and Will, Maureen, and the Robot.

"Don!" Judy screamed furiously, standing on tiptoe and projecting her voice with all her might. "Gun!"

The crowd's roar had diminished. The battlers froze. Demelon and Ca-Val stood motionless with upraised swords. A recovering Soretoon peered fuzzily from where he still lay on the ground, squinting in the sunlight. John, facing Demelon, had followed the flight of the pistol and was now looking over his shoulder at it. Don's head had swiveled toward the sound of Judy's voice. Ordin had skidded to a halt in front of Ca-Val, his sword extended straight out from his body.

Maureen Robinson, standing next to the Robot, stiffened. Her family had been carried off by force from the only home they had known for three years and sentenced to death for something they were not guilty of. Panic stricken, she had seen her daughters taken away, unable to stop the designs of evil beings. She was helplessly watching as her husband fought for his life for no reason other than entertainment for the gross toad-ruler of this planet. She felt the gaze of thousands of hostile alien eyes. However, throughout the last few hours of apprehension and barely contained terror, something had been building in her heart, and a switch abruptly flipped over. The laser gun was the catalyst. Maureen Robinson had had enough.

Without warning, she sprinted away from the protective side of the Robot. Will watched her in goggling astonishment, as did the four Selesians tasked to guard them, being taken completely by surprise by Maureen's unexpected move.

"What? Stop!" cried one of the Selesians in a panic. He was following her with his weapon, raising it to the firing position.

Maureen ignored the command. As she dashed the few steps to the weapon, the soldier let loose an energy ball that streaked across the stadium floor. It rocketed behind the fast-moving Earth woman, missing her by inches, and detonated in a great flash and explosion twenty feet beyond.

But Maureen did not stop. In an incredibly fluid motion, she reached down, scooped the laser up, and flicked the power switch on. There was a brief electronic whine as she brought it up in a firm, two-handed fighting grip, spread her legs for purchase, leveled the weapon towards the gladiators, and fired.

It was a spectacular shot, as deadly accurate as it was unexpected. The blue beam from the laser lanced out, straight as an arrow, and flew between Don and John, knocking them sideways with the physical force of its fully unleashed energy. The laser beam struck Demelon full in the chest, and the impact threw him head over heels thirty feet to land with a crash on the ground, his sword clattering away. Don, trying to keep his feet under him, caromed violently into Ordin, and they both went sprawling. That left Ca-Val standing by himself, his shock supreme as he suddenly found himself staring down the business end of the laser and the snarling face of its wielder. His surprise was short-lived; another beam shot out, and Ca-Val, too, was blasted away. He landed on his back and slid into Demelon's prone body, where both gladiators lay still, whether dead or alive none could say.

Maureen was standing, the laser still in both hands, pointing at the vanquished gladiators, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

"Maureen!" John cried and raced towards her. Don and Ordin had picked themselves up and were running towards her also, their heads low.

Will stared, nearly speechless, at his mother's back. "Wow," was all he could manage.

The crowd erupted in the loudest roar yet, and anyone not already standing surged to their feet, arms waving and robes flapping in the breeze. It was the combined voices of thousands, and, yet, the cries of fear and chagrin seemed to be mixed with actual cheers and frenzied exhortations. There were angry faces and shaking fists, but there were excited, if shocked, grins to be seen as well among the gesticulating aliens in the tiers of the stadium.

The four clearly shocked comrades who had been drafted to watch Will, Maureen, and the Robot had been so focused on covering the Robot that they had no concept of the danger the lone Earth woman posed. Belatedly, they lowered their rod weapons to take her out, but it was too little, too late. Clustered too closely, they interfered with each other's aim and began firing wild energy balls that either arced high or wide. Maureen, on the other hand, swiveled toward them with deadly accuracy and took each of them down with four rapid bursts from the laser pistol, stretching them out in an untidy pile of arms, legs, and weapons. .

Lashed into action by shrill commands from Telmok, more Selesian soldiers were being driven out into the field, also urged on by hysterical sergeants who saw control rapidly slipping from the event. Clanking soldiers were flowing from the various arches towards the Earth party in the middle of the stadium, but their groupings offered a target rich environment to the gun-wielding Robinson. Undaunted, Maureen raged on, firing at the clustered soldiers emerging into the field. She wielded the laser with a sweeping motion, tossing soldiers right and left. Those who were not directly hit by the blue beam were struck by the flying bodies of their comrades as their efforts began dissolving into utter chaos. John, Don, and Ordin dove for the ground as the laser beams swept mercilessly over their heads.

"Get 'em, Mom!" Will exhorted wildly, dancing up and down in front of the Robot.

"Will!" the Robot commanded firmly, extending his arms and rolling forward slightly, bumping against Will. "Get behind me!"

Complying but grinning from ear to ear, Will swung around behind the machine and threw himself to the ground, covering his head with his arms but keeping his face raised so he could watch the building carnage. Now that John, Don, and Ordin were clear, the Robot had an unobstructed field of fire, and he let loose with his electrical salvos, adding to the bedlam that was occurring on the field. More balls of red energy were loosed by panicky soldiers, but these hastily aimed salvos continued to go wild or plunge into the hapless crowd with terrible destructive force, exploding in the packed masses of shrieking, terror-struck people and creating utter mayhem.

Within the royal arch, havoc also reigned. Telmok was screaming incoherent orders, gesticulating wildly. Shon-KonDar gaped incomprehensibly, his jowls flapping as his head swiveled erratically back and forth, his bloated features transformed with raw terror. He had dropped his cup and play sword, and his helmet had fallen off his head. Garrak appeared and began shouting commands to his sergeants, increasing the turmoil by countermanding Telmok's orders. Frenzied screams were coming from Shon-KonDar's seraglio as the women blundered about in total disorder, trying to stay clear of the charging soldiers. Several had fallen and were being trampled under by their companions.

However, the uproar was about to get ratcheted up another degree, and from a completely different direction. Without warning, the shadowed arch that shielded the royal party was lit brilliantly from inside with a flashing blue radiance. Figures were silhouetted against the glare and screams intensified. The ruling class came surging and tumbling out of the arch onto the sun-lit field as if pushed from behind.

It was Judy. She had found another pistol in the sack and was laying about her with the weapon, stunning some and scattering others, clearing a path for herself and Penny. Penny clung close to her sister as Judy forged ahead, fighting her way out onto the stadium floor and heading towards the isolated group that was her family.

"Wait for me! Wait for me!" Dr. Smith cried plaintively and ran after the two sisters. Realizing he was in considerable danger of being left behind if the Earth party could effect an escape, he had quickly switched sides again.

"What are you doing?" Telmok shrieked at him and made as if to grab the doctor. "Stop!"

However, Dr. Smith was moving fast, driven by blind panic, and pushed past the Vizier as if unaware of him. Even as Telmok reached arms out towards him, the Selesian was swept into a stampeding group of courtiers who forced him, his arms flailing ineffectually, through a nearby arch and out of sight.

Heedless, Smith scrambled out of the way, cast off his robe--he was still wearing his ship's clothing underneath--and moved in closely behind Judy. Even in stark terror, he was as ready to criticize as ever as he shouted at Judy from behind. "Watch what you're doing…we'll be killed!" He pointed. "Over there! Get that one! No, that one! Here comes another!"

Meanwhile, while all this was going on, Ordin took advantage of an opportunity to get a weapon and add his weight to the battle. When a Selesian soldier fell next to him, stunned by one of Maureen's blasts, Ordin, who was still on the ground after diving under Maureen's line of fire, scooped up the soldier's rod-weapon and began triggering the gun, sending red balls of energy flying with deadly accuracy into the swarming soldiers. Like one possessed, he struggled to his knees and, yelling fiendishly, laid about him, picking out targets as they came at him. He could not rise further because the weapon was still attached to the backpack strapped to the unconscious Selesian's back, but the encumbrance hardly seemed to affect Ordin at all and the destruction he was now able to loose.

Both John and Don had regained their feet and, armed only with their swords, met the charge of a group of four gladiators who had emerged from one of the arches. They were smaller than Ca-Val, Demelon, and Soretoon, but they came forward with war whoops and whirling blades, intent on saving the day. The Professor and West engaged them, knocking aside weapons and parrying thrusts, keeping them away from Maureen and the Robot, who maintained a constant barrage of fire against rod-wielding soldiers.

The crowd in the stadium had fallen into uncontrollable frenzy. The native Alcandrians, seeing their hero, Ordin, fighting for his life in the stadium, could bear it no longer. They leaped to their feet and gave vent to their frustrated rage at their oppressors, using fists and whatever else came to hand to strike back. Hand-to-hand fights swirled up and down the tiers of seats as the surprised Selesians found themselves set upon by berserk Alcandrians. Seats were torn apart for clubs, poorly aimed rod-weapons were blasting away haphazardly as the Selesian soldiers tried to contain the riot, and Alcandrians and Selesians set upon each other with tooth and nail. The previous cheering of the crowd had dissolved into bloodcurdling shrieking as the mob jammed towards the exits, and the stadium shook to the thunder of stampeding feet and heavy blows.

John and Don were forced back towards Maureen, Will, and the Robot. Combined laser fire from Judy and Maureen, as well as some well placed bolts from the Robot, scattered the gladiators, allowing the men to join them nearly at the same time as Judy, Penny, and Dr. Smith. They clustered together in a defensive circle as the fight swirled around them, instinctively protecting one another from the melee.

"Look at that lunatic!" Don yelled above the tumult while simultaneously fending off the attack of a hulking Selesian whirling a sword. He pointed with his free hand at Ordin. "What the hell is he doing?"

John viciously kicked another soldier away, who then fell among more of his group, knocking them all down like bowling pins, then followed Don's gaze. "Looks like the damn fool is going after the god-king himself!" he cried.

At some point, Ordin had discarded his rod-weapon in favor of a large, curved sword and was charging hell-bent towards the imperial arch, howling like a madman. He looked neither right nor left, but ran purposefully, his eyes fixated ahead, the sword swinging low before him. Within the arch, running figures were everywhere, except for one. Shon-KonDar, frozen stiff into immobility and blind panic, remained sitting on the throne, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Unable to run away and completely befuddled by the swiftness of what was occurring, he sat like a lump of flesh, his ring-bedecked hands clutching the arms of his throne in white-knuckled fear. He looked wildly about him, seeking his usual bodyguards, but they had been swept up into the mobs of soldiers who were now battling indigenous Alcandrians. Armed with makeshift clubs and swords, the natives had leaped across the barricades and were running amok throughout the stadium and under the arches, giving vent to long pent-up fury against their Selesian overlords.

Shon-KonDar's swiveling head suddenly stopped as his beady pig-eyes fastened on the rapidly approaching Ordin. The little god-king saw his doom coming upon him as the vengeful Alcandrian raced towards him, now lifting the sword and whirling it wrathfully over his head. With a squeal of fright, the monarch heaved himself with stupendous effort to his feet, turned, and waddled down the dais with surprising speed. Even so, Ordin would have been upon the god-king in moments except that he suddenly found himself engulfed in a shrieking crowd of concubines, Selesian aristocrats, and courtiers who pounded past in a mindless mob, carrying him along with them despite his ineffective struggles to get through the terrified pack. He cursed at the top of his lungs and fought to get through, but it was all he could do to keep his feet as he was forced away from his intended victim.

Meanwhile, Shon-KonDar took advantage of the distraction and was moving as quickly as he could, his squat legs propelling his huge bulk towards the strange pit that yawned on one side of the stadium floor. Even with the increase in sunlight, the pit itself looked as unnatural and out of place in the stadium as ever. Surrounded by flat inlaid rocks, its walls sank straight down into the ground, disappearing into deep shadow, giving it a bottomless appearance. However, the walls were not smooth. Deep parallel gouges had been made in various places in the walls, almost as if clawed out of the rock by titanic fingers.

As if certain of his actions, Shon-KonDar did not hesitate as he approached the lip of the pit. Sweat was pouring off him, and his breath was coming in wheezing gasps. Glancing fearfully over his shoulder, he saw Ordin, who had finally broken free from the mob, running towards him again, bloody murder in his eyes. Behind the Alcandrian, Selesian soldiers, seeing the danger to their god-king, were converging towards them, yelling and swinging swords and rod-weapons. But they were far enough away that it was clear to the frightened, fat emperor that Ordin would reach him first. And, he had no doubt what would then happen.

Reaching the hole, the Son of the Dawn fell heavily to his knees, and then fell flat forward onto his stomach so that his face extended over the lip of the pit. He threw his arms out, extending them into the pit, and cried out shrilly into the unseen depths, "_Comonoth regula, comonoth chantik, comonoth mechantic!" _

As the echoes of his voice reverberated deep down into the chasm, he glanced back over his shoulder and saw Ordin practically upon him. Apoplectic with terror, he turned back and shrieked into the pit, "I call upon you, aid me in my hour of need! Come forth! Destroy my enemies!"

Then, from the pit, came a rumble and a braying that overcame the noise from the frothing hordes in the stands. Ordin slid to a halt in surprise, his arms windmilling, several paces away from where Shon-KonDar lay by the edge of the pit. The soldiers pursuing Ordin also pulled up short, their eyes gaping wide in fear. Several of the closest Selesians began jabbering to each other and pointing towards the huge hole. The ground had begun to shake and tremble to vibrations coming from within the pit, and frightful blows could be heard deep within it, getting louder, as if _something_ was climbing up from the depths, something huge.

Some distance away, the Robot began warbling excitedly, throwing out his arms and waving them violently. "Warning!" he said. "Danger! Alien life-form detected! _Large_ alien life-form! Recommend immediate withdrawal from this area!"

"Watch it, damn you!" Don snapped angrily as he ducked under the Robot's wildly gesticulating arms. "What are you talking about?"

"Large alien life-form is rising from the pit!" the Robot repeated, his sensor tabs rotating around his bubble-top, clearly beside himself in uncharacteristic panic.

"_What_ life-form?" the Professor yelled in exasperation, laying a roundhouse punch on a soldier who got within reach, sending him staggering backwards.

"Look!" Dr. Smith cried from behind Maureen, where he was cowering. He thrust out an arm over her shoulder, pointing. "What is coming out of the pit? We're doomed! Doomed! Someone do something!"

At Smith's shout, everyone--Robinson family and nearby Selesian soldiers alike--spun to look towards the pit, and gaped in horror. Two huge claws the size of tall men rose out of the pit and slammed down onto its edges on either side of Shon-KonDar. As they watched, a horrific visage thrust itself over the lip of the pit and began rising from within.

"The Malawick!" came a hysterical shout from a nearby Selesian, who pointed with both hands, his rod-weapon clattering to the ground. "He has summoned the Malawick!"

The creature called the Malawick had finished scrabbling its way out of the pit and stood swaying, blinking in the strong sunlight. It was a giant, easily thirty feet tall, and twenty in width. It was completely covered with coarse, wiry hair that hung in ragged tendrils from its huge body. Sharp, black talons sprouted from misshapen fingers; claws protruded from the toes of its massive feet. It had a face of darkest nightmare. Half a dozen glittering black eyes, like a spider's and partly veiled with overhanging hair, clustered under a beetling brow. It had no nose, but directly below the eyes was the gaping maw, within which were multiple fangs that so twisted among themselves it was questionable the beast could close its jaws at all. It reared back and gave vent to a roaring shriek that seemed to rattle the very foundations of the stadium. Meanwhile, Shon-KonDar, who stood erect and seemingly unconcerned between the creature's wide-spread legs, gesticulated wildly, his mouth twisting and working as he bellowed incoherently.

The madly rushing crowd was now in full flight. People were jamming exits, pushing hysterically, screaming, and continually looking back over their shoulders at where the Malawick moved about. Crumpled bodies, those who could not keep their footing in the riot and were trampled under, lay scattered and unmoving like piles of rags. Discarded weapons, torn clothes, and bits of armor littered the field.

The Robinsons suddenly found themselves alone in a tight circle in the middle of the stadium as the soldiers who had been menacing them were gone, fleeing for their lives along with the rest of the mob, heading for the nearest exits.

"Well," West gasped wryly, placing his hands on his waist and staring blandly up at the behemoth. "This is a fine mess we're in."

"Major, this is no time for glibness!" an appalled Smith screamed, retreating behind the Robot. "Do something!"

Ordin, who had abandoned his berserk charge against Shon-KonDar, was in fast retreat back towards them, his face a mask of unbelieving terror. "Run! For your lives, run!" He cast a frenzied glance over his shoulder to see that the Malawick had started moving towards them in response to Shon-KonDar's incomprehensible gibbering. The little god-king seemed to be urging it on, his rings winking on his fingers as he pointed frantically at the Earth party.

Maureen uttered something uncharacteristically earthy that, despite the clear danger, drew shocked stares from her children. Her eyes flashing in the sun and her mouth twisted in a grimace of concentrated effort, she swiveled towards the approaching creature, planted her feet again, raised her laser, and fired. The blue beam struck the horror dead center on the chest, causing it to stop short, raise its arms, and give vent to the loudest pain-laced screech heard yet. But, then it seemed to lean forward into the laser and stepped closer, raising its prodigious arms threateningly. Behind it, Shon-KonDar leaped and cavorted, his arms waving flabbily, his mouth contorted in unheard exhortations.

As Maureen kept the beam on the howling creature, Don turned with slow deliberateness, as if he had all the time in the world, and extended a hand towards Judy. "May I?" he asked with exaggerated politeness, indicating the laser still in her hand. "I believe I'd like to help out your mom."

Judy stared at him, then broke out into a grin. "How very kind of you," she answered in the same tone of serious courtesy. "I'm sure she would appreciate your assistance." She extended the weapon hilt first, and Don took it with a wink.

He whipped around, all pretense at decorum gone, dropped to one knee beside Maureen, raised the laser and pulled the trigger, guiding his beam near hers onto the midsection of the colossus. Another titanic screech came from the distended throat, and the monster stopped, beating the air with its clawed hands and stamping its feet. Glittering black eyes, like shiny round marbles, glared at the Earth party as if to blast the humans from existence through sheer malignancy. Froth flew from its mouth as it howled its rage, and appeared to be coiling itself for a prodigious leap.

John thrust out his sword in the direction of the Malawick and commanded the Robot, "Robot, whatever power you have left, use it! Fire at that thing!"

Instantly, the Robot's arms went rigid as Will and Penny leaped out of the way, and coruscating bolts of blue electricity left his claws, arcing across the intervening distance and impacting on the creature.

Seeing the Robinsons fighting back, Ordin, who had closed the distance with them, changed directions abruptly and dove for a nearby discarded rod-weapon and pack. Even as the Robot opened up, Ordin slid onto the ground in a great cloud of dust, like a baseball player coming into home. In a single motion, he grabbed the weapon, triggered it from his prone position on the stadium floor, and began firing, sending balls of energy one after another into the heaving breast of the maddened beast.

Howling in pain and fury, the Malawick was finally being forced backwards towards the pit. It waved its arms as if trying to ward off the multiple energy blasts striking it, but it was being driven remorselessly backwards by the force of the manifold weapons discharges. The straight, blue beams of the lasers, the coruscating electrical discharges from the Robot, and the red pulses from Ordin's gun all combined to create an intense display of raw power. Against this was the elemental rage from the monster, who kept up its shrieking and wild flailing as it continued to step backwards unwillingly.

"Keep at it!" Penny cheered, capering up and down.

"Give him what for, Mom!" Will yelled, grinning from ear to ear.

"Go, Robot!" Judy shouted encouragement. "Go, Don!"

One of the laser beams abruptly vanished. "I'm out!" Maureen shouted despairingly over the whines of the other weapons, glancing at the power display on the discharged pistol.

As if to make up for the slack, Ordin suddenly pumped out a double-shot of energy with his rod-weapon, the discharge striking the Malawick like a pile driver and shoving it violently backwards. On the verge of falling, the monster stamped its feet furiously as it tried to regain its balance, backing precisely to where the rotund Emperor of all the Universes stood with upraised arms. Shon-KonDar's grotesque look of certain victory transformed rapidly to one of goggling alarm as the reeling behemoth towered over him. Too late, the emperor realized his danger. He started to move aside but froze in terror as a shadow fell over him. One titanic foot, lifted awkwardly, was coming down right over his head. Shon-KonDar had time for one garbled scream, his hands over his head, before the foot crashed down over him, striking him to the ground and squashing the god-king like a bug.

The Malawick slid horribly on the mess that was left, its feet went out from under it, and it toppled over backwards onto the lip of the pit. The monster continued somersaulting over, its flailing legs rising into the air as the rest of its body slipped over the brink and, with a piercing wail, the monster slid into the yawning abyss, tumbling into the dark void from which it had come. Its shrieks dwindled away, as did the sounds of its huge body striking the sides of the well as it fell with increasing velocity into unknowable depths. There was no final crash to indicate the monster had reached bottom.

The Robinsons stood frozen, blinking in disbelief at their victory. They slowly became aware of the tumult still convulsing the stadium as the populace continued its mindless stampede for the exits.

Don slowly got to his feet. "Humph," he grunted with satisfaction. "Got the bastard." He regarded the red smear glistening in the dust where the former ruler of Selesia once stood. He grinned. "Both of them, in fact." He turned towards Maureen and spoke admiringly. "Nice shooting, Annie Oakley. Remind me never to get into an argument with you…at least if you're armed."

The fires in her eyes were fading, but Maureen's voice was steady as a rock as she glanced over at him, breaking out into a fierce smile. "See that you don't, Major West," she said in a dangerous tone, evoking an appreciative chuckle from the pilot.

"Is it dead?" Penny asked, picking herself up from the ground where she and Will had dived for cover.

Before anyone could answer, Ordin came pounding up to the clustered group, having discarded his empty rod-weapon in the dust. "Unbelievable!" he cried in utter astonishment. "We destroyed the Malawick! Shon-KonDar is dead! This is incredible, I must report in, I must contact…I have…er…" he dissolved into incoherency as various expressions chased themselves across his face.

John was looking about him at the pandemonium, gesturing with his sword. "I believe now would be a good time for us to make a strategic retreat, wouldn't you say?"

Ordin seemed to come to himself and looked around. "You're right! We must get you out of here, and quickly! I don't know what's going to happen next, but now is our chance to get you back to your spaceship. Incredible!" he repeated, staring in awe as the old order seemed to be crumbling down in ruin all about them.

"Robot, how're your power levels?" Will asked, glancing with some concern at the flickering power indicators on the Robot's front panel.

"Sufficient," the Robot equivocated.

"Where to, then?" West prompted, waving his laser pistol vaguely.

Ordin pointed towards one of the arches. "We can get out through there. I know where the patrol craft are kept. We'll take one and try and get you back to your ship."

"All right, then," John said. "Let's go. Ordin, lead on; everyone, stay close!"

As they moved off, Dr. Smith, who still looked considerably shaken, piped up. "Don't forget! It was me that got us out of this!"

"It's true, Dad," Judy added as they began running towards an exit. "Dr. Smith got me the laser that I threw to Mom!"

"I see," John murmured absently, watching the path ahead.

"See?" Smith continued. "I told you! I secured the laser for Judy! And I bet you all thought I was selling you out…"

"Quiet, Smith!" Don snapped, but not as caustically as he usually was with the doctor. "We're not out of this yet." He looked admiringly over at Judy who was striding by his side. "By the way, you look good in the Arabian genie outfit. You should wear clothes like that all the time."

Judy gamely returned his grin and wagged a finger in his face. "Don't get any funny ideas, mister. The Middle Ages were long ago." She did not sound overly displeased with his attention.

He laughed. "Hey, I'm just saying…"

"Well," she said, nudging him in the side with her elbow. "Just keep it to yourself."

"Yeah!" Will said, grinning and making a face at Penny. "You look good for a genie, too!"

Neither of the kids seemed particularly traumatized at having come close to death at the hands of a nightmare leviathan from the depths of the planet.

"Shut up, stupid!" Penny giggled, sweeping off her turban and throwing it at him, which he dodged.

"Keep it moving, people," John growled warningly from up front where he was walking beside Ordin.

The group moved through the arch Ordin had previously indicated, weaving around upended chairs, smashed tables, spilled goblets, and other debris from the sudden rout. They filed through an ornate doorway into a cavernous hall, where there were still knots of people running helter-skelter or struggling with each other, yelling and screaming with fear, anger, and madness. There were Selesian soldiers scattered around, but, entirely leaderless, they milled about uncertainly or simply joined in the general exodus away from the arena and presumably towards unseen exits. The Robinsons passed unmolested and unchallenged down labyrinthine corridors and through interconnected rooms, dodging flitting people who ignored them in their own drive to escape to safety. Smoke wafted about, and dropped torches lay sputtering on the floor.

Abruptly, they burst out of the shadowy maze into a wide courtyard that was open to the sky. Blinking in the sunlight, the Robinsons skidded to a halt. They saw several of the patrol craft similar to the one that had brought them to the island parked haphazardly, as if they had been abandoned in haste. Some floated properly, while others were canted sideways or flat on the ground. One had landed entirely on top of another, crushing it underneath into an unrecognizable mess.

"Come on!" Ordin cried, pointing at the nearest hovercraft that appeared whole. "Let's take this one! I know how to fly them." He sprinted ahead, quickly mounting the extended gangplank.

While most of the family followed, Dr. Smith hung back under the arch they had just entered. He looked aghast at the hovercraft. "No!" he wailed, still panting with exertion from their run, one hand pressed to his chest. "I can't take more of this flying! I am completely undone. Leave me…" He leaned dramatically against the arch, closing his eyes. "You must all save yourselves…"

"Smith!" John called in exasperation from midway up the gangway, leaning on the guardrail. "Get moving! We don't have time for this…!" The rest of the family was pressing past him.

Will had turned back and returned to Smith's side. "It's okay, Dr. Smith," he said comfortingly. "We're just going back to the Jupiter."

"No, no," Smith moaned, raising the back of his hand to his forehead. "I cannot take another step. Go, William, 'tis a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done before…"

"Smith!" West bellowed irately from the deck of the patrol ship. "Quit screwing around and get your ass up here! This boat is leaving!"

Penny ran up to him. "Come on, Dr. Smith," she said, laying a reassuring hand on his arm and smiling up at him. "Remember, we're going back to Earth!"

"Will! Penny! Dr. Smith!" Maureen called, leaning over the rail next to Don, whose face was working in ill-tempered frustration. "Come on up here! We haven't a moment to lose!"

"Earth?" Smith's eyes opened in rapture. "Earth! I had nearly forgotten. How could I forget! Yes, yes, let us board this misbegotten alien contraption. Oh, dear," he groaned, straightening and looking down at the two children flanking him. "I am in a very delicate way, you know! Help me up, now, gently!"

Each of the children took a hand and began pulling. "Come on, Dr. Smith!" Will said. "We'll get you on board."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, lurching after them up the entry ramp. "Easy now. My back…oh, dear…"

Smith staggered up the ramp, complaining nonstop, followed by Will and Penny who were pushing from behind. The Robot was the last one up, his balance gyroscopes whining stridently as he fought to remain upright on the steeply slanting incline. Suddenly, there was a deafening explosion, and the ship lurched convulsively, sending Dr. Smith sprawling onto the deck. Will and Penny staggered around him as the hovercraft rocked; the Robot windmilled his arms wildly as he fought to keep his balance.

"Selesians!" Ordin yelled from the podium, where he turned away from actuating controls.

His attention had been drawn to a pair of soldiers who had entered the courtyard. One had dropped to a knee to let loose a ball of energy from his rod-weapon, which had just struck the hovercraft, while the other guard was in the process of raising his gun. The standing soldier triggered his weapon, and a ball of light arced out, striking the vessel in the side, sending up a great gout of sparks and smoke. The impact sent it skittering sideways, dragging the gangway along the ground and digging a furrow. The Robot barely made the lip of the deck and heaved himself level as the hovercraft rocked under him.

West pulled his laser pistol from his waistband and began firing towards the soldiers, and the entire courtyard lit up in with the dueling energies flaring back and forth. The Robot, now on deck, swiveled and let loose one intense bolt of electricity that arced over Don's head, causing him to instinctively duck with a lurid curse. The bolt impacted on the wall nearest the soldiers, and the stonework exploded outwards, showering the Selesians with sparks and flying rubble, sending them leaping out of the way. Then, with a metallic groan, the Robot slumped over sideways, his arms dangling and all his indicator lights winking out.

"Robot!" Will screamed.

"Ordin, get us the hell out of here!" John yelled.

Ordin slammed a fist down on a switch, and the patrol craft surged up, sending everyone flailing and stumbling. The entry ramp, which had never been retracted, snapped away and spun down into the grounds below. Several energy blasts from the confounded soldiers followed them, striking the vessel, but Ordin steered the craft randomly to complicate their aim, climbing at a steep angle over the wall of the courtyard. At that point, they were out of range and temporarily safe, bowling along at a dizzying rate above the rooftops of the palace.

As the ship stabilized itself in flight, the Robinsons began picking themselves up. Maureen and Judy pulled themselves up on the rear rail as the hovercraft soared along, while John and Don had joined Ordin at the control podium. Penny was helping Dr. Smith to his feet, and Will had turned to the Robot, who was swaying limply to the movement of the vessel.

"You're completely drained," he muttered to himself. "Wonder if your reserve battery is still good…"

He leaned down, flicked a switch on the Robot's control panel, jabbed a button on front, and the lights came back on. The Robot straightened and retracted his arms. "Thank you, Will," he said politely.

"That should last you for an hour, or until we can get you back to the ship and swap out your power pack," Will commented, checking some readouts on the Robot's torso.

"Yes, but I will not be able to engage defensive armaments in this condition."

"That's okay," Will said. "Nice shot back there, by the way."

"Thank you." He seemed to lean forward conspiratorially. "I do my best work under pressure." Will grinned.

"Oh!" Smith was leaning heavily on Penny, who was struggling to keep him upright despite the bucking of the hovercraft. "William, leave that clanking clod alone and help me!" "Oh! My delicate back will never be the same. Oh," he moaned as the ship sank over a rooftop while Will helped Penny get him to a railing, where he grabbed it tightly. "My stomach is in my mouth!" He squinted ahead as his hair was pulled back by the wind of their passage. "It's too windy…you're going too fast! Slow down, you'll kill us all!"

"Do _not_ slow down," John murmured to Ordin at the control podium.

"I won't," Ordin assured him. Then, he grinned fiercely at the Professor. "This planet hasn't been this stirred up in years. But they will regroup soon and be after us with a vengeance. We must hasten; hang on."

The ship dipped over the last wall of the palace, and Ordin lowered the nose to descend over a narrow beach, skimming the sands. In seconds, it was out over the water of the surrounding sea, surging low over the breakers and plunging through the spray, they were that close to the water. Then, the breakers were behind them, with only the massively rolling waves of the sea underneath, and Maldak Island quickly dwindled into the sunlit haze. Ordin climbed several feet and touched a panel, allowing the vessel to settle down to a smooth cruise over the rollers, then bent down and pulled off a panel on the podium. He tossed it aside and thrust his hands inside, rummaging through wire bundles and relays.

John crouched down to watch. "What are you doing?"

"We're not out of this yet," Ordin said. "I'm trying to adjust the receptors of this communications device to frequencies used by Alcandrian rebel space units. You are going to need help getting away in your ship."

"What do you mean?" Don asked, squatting next to John.

"I have no doubt that Selesian fighter craft are even now scrambling, fanning out to find us," Ordin said, frowning at the connections and ripping out components. "It will not be so easy leaving as it was getting here. And, since they know where your ship is, they will undoubtedly be converging there first."

"We are not a warship," Maureen said, joining them at the podium, her hand on John's shoulder as she knelt down. "We have no guns or defenses on the Jupiter. There is no way we can protect ourselves!"

"I know," Ordin said, ripping out a bundle of wires and throwing them overboard. "That's why I'm going to try and call for an escort for you. A couple of Alcandrian fighters can ensure your safety."

Don was shaking his head doubtfully. "I don't know about 'ensuring safety'. You didn't do very well on your ship, and you had guns!" Maureen scowled at him for his undiplomatic reminder. She gave him an impatient nudge in the ribs. He responded with an innocent look and mouthed the word "What?", spreading his hands silently.

If he heard the implied criticism, Ordin made no overt sign. "I will provide the weapons support, you fly your spaceship. It's all we can do. Ah, here we go." Several lights had lit up on the interior panel he was working on. "That should do it." He straightened up and pressed several buttons on the podium. "I'm going to try and contact Alcandrian central command now…"

It only took Ordin two or three tries on the frequency before he was able to raise a response from the rebel fighter force. When he did, he spoke quickly and efficiently to his contact while the hovercraft flew steadily over the waves.

Even as he worked out the details of an escort for the Earth ship, a shoreline appeared on the horizon and grew rapidly. They shot across a narrow stretch of beach and automatically soared higher to crest the canopy of the thick forest, the wind of their passage fanning out the leaves behind them like the wake of a ship. Ordin only gave it a cursory look while he talked excitedly on his communications unit.

Several minutes passed while they rose and fell, following the undulating forest canopy. Maureen, John, and Don remained grouped around Ordin at the control podium, listening intently to the exchange. Will, Penny, and Judy had drifted to the prow of the ship, eagerly watching the view ahead and letting the breeze flatten their hair back against their heads. Dr. Smith, who felt abandoned by all, stood off to one side, complaining loudly and unceasingly to the Robot about the ride, the wind, the temperature, their narrow escape, his delicate back, and anything else that came to mind. The Robot said very little, claiming the need to conserve his power, but giving all the appearance of weary vexation.

"There!" Will said, pointing ahead. "Is that…?"

"It sure looks like…" Judy began uncertainly, squinting into the distance at a silvery metallic glint.

"It's the Jupiter!" Penny cried excitedly. "There it is, Dad!"

"Nice job of navigating," John complimented Ordin, who had finished coordinating with his allies and was hand-flying the vessel.

"Think it will still have guards around it?" Don asked, fingering his laser. "There's not much power left in this thing, but it's all we've got."

"Very likely," Ordin answered, making a minor adjustment towards the still distant spaceship. "Unless they were called away because of this crisis, or abandoned their post, or something like that. We should be prepared to fight our way in."

"Can we set down over there?" John asked, pointing to a clearing passing off to their left. "We should go in quietly on foot rather than thundering in on this thing." He waved at the hovercraft.

"There's not much time," Ordin said, looking at him doubtfully, "and time is critical. The Selesians are in confusion right now, but they'll recover fast. Surprise is on our side, but the window of opportunity for your departure is very narrow, or may already have closed. I suggest we do a flyover to see if anyone is there. This is a Selesian patrol ship, so it might not excite the guards, if there are any. If we see soldiers, we'll sheer off and come up with another plan. If no one is there, we'll land and get you on your way."

"All right," John said after brief thought. "Makes sense. Take us in, then."

"Will, Penny, Judy!" Don called to the three clustered at the prow. "You guys better get back here so you're not so obvious to prying eyes."

"Alert!" the Robot called, interrupting one of Smith's harangues. "Alert! Inbound airborne objects detected, six o'clock and closing!"

"I see them!" John yelled, staring back the way they had come, where three distant specks could be seen over the forest tops. "What are they…?"

"It's the enemy!" Smith wailed, grabbing the rail again as if to brace himself. "They'll shoot us out of the sky!"

Ordin was squinting over his shoulder at the rapidly approaching specks. "No," he began tentatively. "I think…"

The three specks grew rapidly until what few details there were became apparent. The ships were saucer-shaped, sleek, flat, and black, with knife-like edges all around. Twin nacelles on top and towards the rear appeared to be the engines, and windows in front followed the sleek contours of the saucers. The ships suddenly loomed in size and rocketed overhead at incredible speed, their wash tossing the patrol craft violently and causing everyone to duck with yells of surprise. Then, the saucers were past, the earsplitting roar from their engines vibrating the hovercraft from stem to stern, and began firing pulses of intense white energy towards the Jupiter still ahead.

"They're trying to destroy our ship!" Maureen cried in panic. "John…"

"No!" Ordin interjected triumphantly, laughing gustily. "It's your air cover! It's Alcandrians--they're our ships!" He slammed a fist on the podium. "I can't believe they made it here so fast!"

"Then why are they firing on our ship?" West shouted angrily.

John was staring ahead intently. "I don't think they are firing at the Jupiter. Look! I think there's movement around the ship!"

The little vessel was now close enough to see more details within the clearing where the Jupiter was still parked. Indeed, the saucers were not firing on the ship, as it seemed initially. They were firing close to the Earth ship, but at the ground, raising great gouts of earth. Among the explosions of soil and rock could be seen numerous figures, running for cover or firing back at the swooping saucers.

"There IS a contingent of soldiers down there," Ordin shouted. "We would have been running into a trap!"

"Watch out!" Dr. Smith cried, flinching as one of the saucers howled overhead again.

All three fighters were circling the field, belching a non-stop fire of blazingly white energy balls out of wide orifices mounted below what had to be the pilot windows. They were laying down a complex field of fire that left the Jupiter untouched but cleared the meadow of Selesian soldiers, who were quickly retreating to the protective cover of the forest. By the time the hovercraft with the Robinsons on board soared into the clearing, one saucer had landed next to the Jupiter, while the other two circled overhead, occasionally sending energy balls blasting into the forest periphery and keeping the scattered Selesian contingent hunkered down and out of sight.

Ordin jerked the patrol ship into a steep dive, leveling out abruptly over the clearing and braking it violently. No one was ready for the sudden maneuver. Dr. Smith, desperately trying to keep his footing, spun around the swaying Robot; John and Don grabbed the podium, while Maureen grabbed John. Will and Penny landed on top of one another, while Judy spun bodily around the railing, barely keeping her grip and avoiding being thrown to the ground. Ordin had brought them to a halt next to the Alcandrian saucer on the ground and several paces from the Jupiter itself. The Robinson ship shone brilliantly in the sun, the main viewport covered with its metallic shield. The drive pod underneath was dark; the bubble dome on top was lifeless.

Nearby, a ladder descended from the saucer--which was only about one-third the size of the Jupiter--and a figure descended rapidly, leaping to the ground and running towards the patrol ship. He was dressed in a spacesuit similar to the one the Robinsons had found around Ordin when they extracted him from his ship. However, the helmet was off, and a grinning, red-bearded face was goggling happily up at them as he ran at the patrol ship, grabbed the lip of the entry port, and hoisted himself on board with a great deal of grunting and fuming. Ordin ran over to assist him, pulling him up onto the deck. Finally gaining his feet, the newcomer spread his arms and beamed at Ordin.

"Ordin!" he boomed happily.

"Sentauri!" Ordin exclaimed, clapping the other man on the back. "I can't believe it! I should have known. How did you come to be here?"

Sentauri grabbed both of Ordin's hands in twin bone-crushing grips and pumped his arms furiously. "Ha! You don't think I'd miss out on a great fight, do you, nor come to the aid of an old comrade when he called for help?"

"You're still a blustering show-off," Ordin assured him, grinning hugely. "You almost knocked us out of the sky with that low flyby back there."

Sentauri tossed a hand dismissively. "Those Selesian fools were about to open fire on you. You would have been blown to pieces before you even got here! How could they miss with you steering a straight course to your own destruction like you were? I saved your neck, I did, old friend." Ordin opened his mouth to respond, but the other Alcandrian was nearly dancing with barely repressed emotion and plunged on. "But what times these are! Shon-KonDar dead, the Malawick destroyed, Selesian forces on the run! And you are in the middle of everything, as always! Are the stories true, did you slay the Malawick all by yourself?" Without waiting for an answer, he looked past Ordin at the Robinsons. "And these must be the aliens I've been hearing about…?"

Finally being able to get in a word edgewise, Ordin made brief introductions. The irrepressible Sentauri bustled among them, vigorously shaking hands with the men and giving the women enthusiastic hugs and spinning them wildly about. Sentauri bent down and tousled Will's hair playfully, then clapped Dr. Smith on the back with enough force to send the doctor staggering with a yelp against a nearby railing.

More explosions came from the forest, and one of the battle saucers screamed low overhead. Something pinged on the patrol ship. Sentauri's head snapped up alertly as he peered into the forest.

"Enough talk," Sentauri bellowed exuberantly, seeming unable to tone down the energetic full-volume quality of his voice. Pointing to a small metallic cylinder lodged firmly in his right ear, he addressed John. "You need to get out of here. I'm listening to Selesian battle frequencies, and I can tell you they are wild with fury. Fighter craft are converging on this area as we speak." He waved expansively about him, indicating the field. "This place is going to get really hot really soon." He turned to West. "You say you're the pilot of that ship? How long is it going to take you to get it off the ground?"

Don looked over at the silent Jupiter, and chewed on his lower lip. "Normally," he began, nearly shouting in response to Sentauri's loudness, then stopped himself. "Sorry," he glanced apologetically at John and Maureen and lowered his voice to normal volume. "Normally, I would say…no, never mind. This is not normal." He ducked involuntarily as another saucer shrieked overhead at low altitude, firing as it passed. He grinned in appreciation as it banked sharply over the forest, chasing unseen targets, then continued. "I can't tell you until I get inside. The ship is completely shut down, and I don't know if those Selesians were able to get inside despite our security protocols and mess things up."

"It looks secure enough from here," John observed.

"Well, get to it, then," Sentauri thundered, glancing at the sky. "No telling when those Selesian devils are going to show up with their reinforcements."

John nodded in agreement, then addressed his group. "You heard the man!" he boomed, matching Sentauri's decibel level. "Everyone on board…it's time for us to leave!"

Ordin mashed another switch on the hovercraft, causing the entire vessel to settle bodily to the ground with a crunch. The men helped the women off, while Will and Penny leaped the rail to the ground and sprinted for the ship, greatly heartened at the familiar sight of their venerable ship. It took all four of the men--Sentauri, Ordin, John, and Don--to assist the Robot off the hovercraft, but it was eventually done without injury to either man or machine.

They shortly found themselves clustered under the front landing strut of the Jupiter, looking up as Don climbed the ladder to the closed entry hatch. He knocked on it experimentally, producing a solid, metallic ring.

"Sounds secure," he said. "I don't think anyone got in." He reached up to a small panel beside the hatch and pressed two release latches. A small door dropped open, revealing a grid of buttons with numbers on them. Above them was a red handle countersunk into the panel.

"Do you remember the code?" John asked, looking up and standing one step below him.

"Yeah, I got it," West answered.

"Can't the Robot unlock it remotely for us?" Will asked, addressing his father. "That might be faster." He and the Robot were standing next to the strut with the rest of the family.

"My protocols allow for remote locking," the Robot said, swiveling towards the youth, "but unlocking can only be done manually, at the access panel, by inserting the proper code. It was considered a security requirement."

"Oh."

"Hurry up, Don!" Judy urged, looking warily about from where she stood at the pad of the landing strut. She could see the battle saucers still soaring and laying down fields of fire over the forest. "I feel totally exposed out here!"

West pressed several of the buttons in sequence. Nothing happened. He pulled at the red handle, but it did not come out of its recess. He dropped his hand to his side and stared at the panel thoughtfully.

"What's wrong?" Maureen said, looking up.

"If that's the right code, it should have unlocked. I'm not getting any indications it did."

"Try it again," John prompted.

Don punched the series of buttons again. There was a loud click.

Don brightened. "I think that was it. Must have punched it in wrong." He reached into the access panel and pulled on the red handle; it slid out on a telescoping rod. "Oughta be unlocked now…"

The handle unfolded into a crank. Don tried to turn the crank, but it did not budge. Cursing, he braced his shoulder against the landing strut and heaved again. "I'm sure it's unlocked," he said through gritted teeth, pulling hard on the crank.

"Open that door, you overbearing oaf!" Dr. Smith blustered up at him. "Put your back into it, man!"

"Come on, Don," Penny whispered under her breath, clenching her fists until her knuckles turned white. The sight of their refuge so close, yet possibly unattainable, was making her crazy with suspense.

Don took a breath, then jerked back in a colossal heave that he held. His lips were open in a snarl, his jaw clenched tight. His eyes were slits, veins popped out on his forehead and his face began turning red.

The crank turned a quarter inch.

"Son of a bitch!" he growled lustily, but his determination flared. He flew back, redoubling his effort. His entire body convulsed as every single muscle contracted. His mouth flew open and he gave voice to a long-drawn, deep-throated roar of defiance.

With a tremendous metal-to-metal grinding sound, the crank turned, and the door began opening. Keeping up the pressure, Don kept turning; the door continued to slide to one side until it was fully open.

The family erupted into frenzied cheers.

"Gonna have to put some WD-40 on that manual release mechanism," Don panted, sweat pouring off him as he sagged weakly against upper steps. "Where's the nearest hardware store?"

John climbed up next to him, reached and pushed the crank back into the panel and secured the access door. "Only a few light years down the block. C'mon, cowboy, let's get going. Need some help up?"

West laughed dismissively, taking great gulps of air. "C'mon, now. It'll take more than a rusty crank to tire me out. Besides, no rest for the wicked." He looked up. The open hatch framed a stygian blackness inside. There were no indicator lights and no sounds. "Looks scary in there."

The family began climbing up the ladder, anxious to get on board.

"Let's go, Don!" Judy urged.

"Quit crowding," Don grumbled, stepping up into the open hatch and flipping a switch on a bulkhead near the entry port. "Let me get the emergency lights on…" Dim lighting glowed on, adding just a little to the daylight flooding through the open hatch.

"We progress!" John exclaimed confidently, looking around the interior as the rest of the family surged up behind him. "Looks like they couldn't get in. That's good news. Let's get the ship powered up and see what we have!"

"Right," Don agreed. "Time to bring this baby back to life."

After gaining the lower deck, Don went directly to the ladder that accessed the upper deck and climbed up. He arrived on the flight deck and looked around. The upper deck of the Jupiter was illuminated in a ghostly radiance by the emergency lights. All the normal background noises of the ship were absent; it was quiet as a tomb. From below, the voices of the family reverberated oddly, and their footsteps on the metal deck echoed in an eerie way. John was climbing the ladder directly behind him.

Don strode directly to the helm. Only one button there was pulsing weakly, as if directing his attention to it. He pressed it, and several indicator lights on the front panels winked on. "Batteries are on line," Don muttered to himself. "Voltage is low, but it should be enough." He half turned as he heard John cross the deck behind him. "I'm starting the auxiliary power unit," he announced, then reached over and punched another button.

From somewhere deep in the ship, a low vibration began that slowly turned into a whine, increasing softly in volume. Don leaned over the helm, waiting, as John joined him. Suddenly, there was a loud clunk from behind one of the electrical control panels, and lights flooded the deck. The entire front panel lit up, and, within seconds, every single peripheral panel on the surrounding bulkheads also illuminated. The normal mechanical and electrical background noises of the Jupiter 2 that the family had grown so used to over the years filled the emptiness and banished the darkness.

"It…is…_alive_!" Don proclaimed maniacally, throwing his hands up in theatrical ecstasy.

"Very good, Dr. Frankenstein," John quipped, adjusting some controls. "Now let's get your creation ready for flight!"

For the next quarter of an hour, the Jupiter saw a frenzy of activity. John opened the main viewport, allowing sunshine to flow brilliantly into the main deck, adding to the sense that the Jupiter had risen from the dead. Throwing himself into the pilot chair, Don began flipping switches, pushing buttons, and massaging engine cold-start procedures. He and John began calling back and forth, running checklists and monitoring critical parameters as they hastened the operation as fast as they dared. Maureen and Judy took over the simultaneous powering and checks of their gravity, life support, and pressurization systems, fluidly meshing their actions with those of the two men at the helm station. Will and the Robot booted up the navigation and guidance systems. Penny and even Dr. Smith prepared the acceleration couches for their departure.

Ordin and Sentauri had come bustling up onto the main deck, Sentauri looking around with professional interest. "How long?" Ordin asked, watching over Major West's shoulder as Don's hands flew over the controls.

Sentauri had been standing very still, staring at the deck, one hand at the receiver in his ear. He abruptly broke in, waving a hand towards the viewport, "Robinson, Selesian fighters have been detected closing on our location. The soldiers still in the forest must be coordinating their arrival."

"Almost ready," Don growled irritably, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he concentrated. "I'm blowing off a whole lot of checks here."

"I understand," John said, twirling dials and pressing buttons in a blur of motion. "Just configure it as best you can, and we'll sort the fine points out in space. I'm prioritizing the systems we need right now. The other 'nice-to-have' stuff can wait until later."

"There," Don proclaimed, glancing in a satisfied way at several indicators. The deck underfoot was vibrating gently, like a silently purring cat. "Engine's at a stable idle, we have artificial gravity, and life support is steady. Good job, ladies!" he yelled, giving a "thumb's up" sign to Maureen and Judy, who were working at a panel next to the airlock door. When they returned his gesture in kind, he pointed at Will. "You, too, Will! I'm showing in the green for essential nav."

"Raw alignment is complete," Will said, scanning a clipboard and comparing his notes to the readouts. "I can narrow the buffers once we take off and make a couple of turns."

"Concur," the Robot said. "Estimated position error is at point oh-five. Suitable for basic navigation and position fixing."

"That'll do for now," Don agreed, then glanced thoughtfully at the Robot. "It might be better if you locked in to your station on the lower deck. This isn't going to be a normal departure, especially if we have to start escape maneuvering."

"A wise precaution," the Robot agreed, turned, and rolled off, heading for the lift.

Don sat back, puffing air out between his lips, giving his panel a final scan. "John, I think we're ready to go."

"Good job, everyone!" John said approvingly. He looked up at Ordin, who was hovering over his seat. "How do you want to work this?"

"Take off and follow us out. We'll escort you as far as we can," Ordin said; Sentauri nodded his agreement.

"You are leaving us, then," Maureen asked fondly as she came up behind them.

Ordin, turning, smiled at her. "I'll be riding with Sentauri. Shon-KonDar may be dead, but we still have battles to win here. The Selesians are powerful and will likely be vengeful over the death of their god-king. But," he gave a shrug, "that is our fight." His eyes went hopeful, and he gazed at Maureen with something akin to respect, even worship. "Perhaps someday Alcandrian historians will look back on this moment as the critical event, a fateful turning point in our quest for liberty. Down the long haul of time, you all may become legendary heroes, coming from the sky in your silver spaceship to free our world from tyranny, and then disappearing mysteriously into the cosmos, never to be seen again!"

"Oh, please," West groaned ill-temperedly over his shoulder. "On the other hand, it is equally likely that we may be blown to smithereens in the next hour! Let's get this show on the road, pal!"

Ignoring Don's outburst, Ordin turned calmly to face Professor Robinson, who had risen from his chair to take Ordin's extended hand. "Thank you, John Robinson, for your help. I realize now it was an unpardonable risk to ask you to bring me here, but I have you to thank for my life, at least twice over."

The Robinsons had gathered around. Both Maureen and Judy dabbed away tears as they gave Ordin hugs and kisses. Will and Penny grinned up at the warrior as he exuberantly shook each of their hands. There was a brief commotion as everyone expressed their goodbyes and wishes for success, and handshakes were exchanged. Dr. Smith waved disinterestedly from a corner, rolling his eyes at the delay.

"Come on, we're out of time!" Sentauri interrupted, grabbing Ordin's arm and dragging him towards the ladder to the lower deck. "This area will be swarming with Selesian ships anytime now…let's go!"

With a final wave, the two Alcandrians disappeared down the hatch.

"Everyone strap in!" John commanded, dropping into the seat next to Don and pulling his seatbelt and shoulder harness on.

Outside the viewport, he saw Ordin and Sentauri sprinting for their ship. "They're out, Don. Secure all hatches."

"I'm on it. Lower hatch sealed, everything looks closed and locked for flight. We're pressurizing."

John threw a look behind him to check on the family and noticed an empty acceleration couch. "Dammit, where is Will now?"

"He went below to help the Robot into his docking module," Penny answered as she wrestled with her own seat harness. "I told him not to go, but…"

John grabbed a microphone and spoke into it. "Will, where are you? We're about to launch! Get back up here and strap in!"

"Okay, Dad," came the response over the ship's intercom. "I'm just locking the Robot down. He needs recharging badly."

"Just plug him in and get up here now," John said in some exasperation. "He can lock himself in."

"Okay."

Outside the viewport, the Alcandrian fighter was already rising from the ground, moving off to give the Jupiter room to launch.

"Jupiter, this is Sentauri," the radio crackled unexpectedly. "Selesian fighters are near and closing rapidly. You've got to launch now!"

"Are you ready?" John glanced over at Don.

Scanning his panel, Don nodded. "Looks good." He reached for the stick and thrust levers, flexing his fingers in his characteristic gesture before wrapping them firmly around the control levers. He straightened his back. "Do you want a countdown?"

"We don't need the niceties. Just hit it!"

"Here we go!" Don grinned gleefully, advancing the thrust levers smoothly to maximum.

Outside, the revolving lights on the propulsion pod spun up with the accompanying crystalline whine as the engine went to takeoff power. Effortlessly, the Jupiter rose majestically from the ground, wrapped in thunder and swirling dust. As the ship rotated to face Sentauri's hovering fighter, the landing struts retracted into the belly, and the streamlined spaceship steadied for its leap into space. Sentauri turned his ship and angled it upwards.

"Follow us at a comfortable distance, but stay close," came Sentauri's transmission as his ship began a steep climb. "Let me know if you have trouble."

West grabbed the microphone, snapping, "We'll keep up."

"I have a lock on him," John said, adjusting a knob on their radar scope and peering intently at the screen. "If you lose sight, we should be able to follow on radar. I hope you haven't lost any of your formation-flying skills. Looks like we may need them today!"

"No worries," Don said confidently. "I'll just tuck in on their six o'clock tactical position and keep us there. Formation flying is like riding a bicycle…you never forget how!"

"Don't be arrogant, Major!" Dr. Smith called petulantly from his couch. "Your cockiness will be your undoing someday, and maybe ours! Watch where you're going!"

"Shut up, Smith," Don said more out of habit than antagonism.

Will clambered up the ladder from the lower deck and ran to his acceleration couch.

"Hurry and strap in," Maureen urged. "Looks like a rough ride ahead."

"We'll be shot out of the sky!" Dr. Smith assured them all, cinching his belts down far tighter than was comfortable. "This will surely be the end of all of us!"

"Now, now, Dr. Smith," Maureen consoled, always optimistic. "We'll be fine, I'm sure."

John looked back over his shoulder at his wife. She was back in her supportive mother role. He compared that with the berserker warrior he had seen blazing fearlessly away at enemy Selesians and outsized monsters on the planet below. A moment of awe tugged at his heart, until West grumpily yelled at him to increase deutronium flow to the engine. He mentally shook it off and turned back to the helm panels.

They quickly rose through the Alcandrian atmosphere. West adjusted the thrust levers to stay close to his escorts, while his other hand seemed to gently caress the control stick, using very small movements to keep the Jupiter behind and slightly below Ordin's fighter. He kept his gaze locked on the lead ship, anticipating the slightest movement and keeping the Jupiter tucked in like it was physically connected to Ordin's ship. The other two battle saucers had rejoined earlier and held formation on either side of Ordin so that the four vessels made a "T" formation, with the Jupiter at the rear.

The ship began vibrating, as if running across railroad tracks or a washboard. "What's that?" John asked, straightening hurriedly in his seat and scanning the instruments.

"Wake turbulence," Don replied nonchalantly. He dropped the ship a little lower, and the ride instantly smoothed out. "It's the atmospheric wake coming off Ordin's ship. Once we're in space, it won't matter."

The radar began beeping. "I have multiple signals at our six o'clock, closing," John called, shifting his attention and adjusting the radar set. "I have another set coming in from nine o'clock," he continued, squinting hard at the readout and adjusting more dials. "I can't tell how many."

"Bad guys?" West asked, his eyes darting from the radar scope to the viewport as he kept the Alcandrian fighters stationary in the windscreen. He eased the thrust levers forward, and the Jupiter slid even closer to her escort, halting barely twenty feet behind. They were so close they could see the pulsing glow coming from inside the engine nacelles on the top of Ordin's ship.

"Don't know." John brought the microphone up. "Ordin, we have several radar contacts coming from behind and the left. Do you see them?"

"Selesian war craft are in pursuit directly behind us," came Sentauri's voice. "Our fighters are closing from the left to cut them off. Is that what you're talking about?"

"I think so," John answered. "What do you want us to do?"

"Continue to follow. Stay close."

"Ask him what we do once we're in space," Don asked.

Responding to John's query, Sentauri transmitted, "Are you light speed capable, or more?"

West cast a glance at their fuel gages. "No way, not yet. We're too far from Earth. That would definitely kill our reserves and dip seriously into our main supply. We would not be able to make Earth."

"No, we can't," John answered. "Fuel limited."

Outside, the sky was yielding its bluish tint to the faintly pulsing yellow of the nebula as they rose, leaving the remnants of the atmosphere behind them. Brighter stars shone through the general radiance.

An excited, unfamiliar voice came over the radio. "Breaking right!"

The right-hand saucer abruptly banked and pulled off to one side. As it did so, twin white beams of light shot past the formation, rocketing past where the saucer had been moments before. The fighter continued its turn and vanished out of sight to their right.

"I'm turning to engage!" the voice came again.

"Copy, Two," Ordin's voice came from the radio speakers. "Jupiter, stay on me!"

"We're still with you," John answered, then he pointed at the radar screen and addressed Don. "All the targets are closer."

"At this rate of speed, we're going to be in the middle of a furball in minutes," Don snarled, twisting the control stick as Sentauri banked to the left. The Jupiter remained solidly in the Alcandrian's six o'clock position as if attached via an invisible tether. "We're just too damn slow." He advanced the thrust levers full against the forward stop as Sentauri accelerated ahead and began to turn randomly in a zigzag pattern.

"We're eating into our reserves!" John warned, watching multiple fuel gages.

"I know, I know," Don said through gritted teeth. "There's no way we can escape...they're coming in too fast!"

"Three, break formation and engage the enemy," Sentauri's voice came over the radio.

"Copy, lead," came the response, and the third saucer broke left and streaked away out of sight.

"Ordin," John called. "They are too fast for us. Suggest you break off and we'll continue straight ahead. Perhaps you can delay them, keep them engaged."

John waited for a response, holding the microphone tensely. The back of Sentauri's ship lit up, reflecting the light from the battle occurring behind them. Several errant beams of light shot past, dwindling into the nebula.

"Ordin…?" John repeated.

"Stand by, Professor Robinson…" came the taut reply.

"What the hell is he doing up there," Don said, wrenching the ship into another turn. The artificial gravity compensators whined to keep up, throwing everyone hard against their safety harnesses.

"Look, they're coming!" Smith cried fearfully, pointing at the radar screen. "We'll all be killed!"

"There's one chance, Jupiter!" Ordin's voice came over the frequency. "Sentauri can latch on and combine our engine power with yours to accelerate you away! Maintain your course…we're breaking out of formation. You have the lead." Sentauri's ship turned violently left before Don could react and then dipped down out of sight. Only the nebula now filled the viewport.

Surprised, Don rolled out. "What did he say? What's he doing? Where'd he go?"

"Say again, Ordin?" John spoke into the microphone. "We didn't understand. What is your plan?"

One of the battle saucers shot across their bow, followed by a stream of energy beams. One hit the saucer and ignited, casting a brilliant flash through the viewport into the Jupiter. Everyone yelled.

"He's been hit!" Judy cried.

However, the fighter continued on, spinning on its axis and executing a hard turn away.

"Damn, I wish we could see behind us!" Don exclaimed, tossing his head in the direction of the radar screen. "They're right behind us…we're gonna get creamed anytime, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

"Ordin, come in!" John called again. "We're blind up here…what is the plan you were talking about?"

Ordin's voice had a controlled urgency to it. "We have the capability of latching on to your ship with our rendezvous claws! We can add our engine thrust to yours and boost you out of the system!"

John and Don stared in stark disbelief at one another. Suddenly, the Jupiter lurched with a violent impact. Sparks flew from a panel behind where the family was sitting and a siren began wailing. Flames erupted from behind the panel to a chorus of alarmed screams from the strapped-in Robinsons.

"We've been hit!" Don yelled, wrestling with the controls and corkscrewing the Jupiter into a vicious evasive maneuver. He glanced over at the console. "Red light on the portside exhaust manifold!"

"Overheat," John shouted, hitting the alarm silence button, "and we have an over-voltage on panel 121VU. I'm locking it down. Will! You're on extinguisher duty…get that fire out at the emergency generator panel. Do it now!"

Now used to being called upon in emergencies, Will swept his acceleration harness off with admirable speed and leaped up from his couch, grabbed an extinguisher from a wall bracket, and applied himself to the fire. Using a two-handed sweeping motion, he sprayed the panel down, dodging sparks that leapt from the sizzling console. He struggled to keep his footing as the ship gyrated and bucked.

"Jupiter, were you hit?"

"I think so, but we're still in one piece," John said breathlessly, dealing with multiple malfunctions on the panels before him. "We were fortunate. We're running out of time and luck. One direct hit could destroy us. What was your plan again?"

A battle saucer raced by the viewport, belching energy rays at unseen foes.

"We can physically attach ourselves to your ship, and I think we can do it without damage to either. Once attached, we can use our combined engine power to boost you to higher speed and out of the system. But, we have to do it now! I don't know how much longer the other two battle saucers can hold the Selesians off!"

"Do it," John responded without hesitation.

"What??" Don cried, appalled, risking a glance at the professor, thinking him a madman. "He's gonna attach his spacecraft to ours? Where? Structurally, I don't know if…"

"Our only hope," John cut him off, flipping some switches. "Will, I've isolated power to the generator, that should help you."

"It's going out," Will yelled over his shoulder even while he directed clouds of extinguishing agent against the still sparking and popping electrical panel.

"Robot!" John keyed the intercom. "Unlock and return to the upper deck! Looks like we're going to need you up here after all for some emergency navigation, and soon."

"Acknowledged, Professor Robinson," came the unflappable reply. "I'm on my way."

"Dad, I don't know if the Robot has much power left!" Will warned as he shut down the extinguisher. "He might not be able to help much longer!"

"Can't be helped," his father replied tightly.

"I'll go get his reserve power pack!" Will began, and turned towards the ladder.

"_Stay!"_ Robinson commanded.

"We're coming in," Ordin called, breaking into whatever else John was going to say. "Level off. I'll take care of everything. Do not change speed or heading. Stand by for coupling…"

Don centered the control stick, and the Jupiter settled down. "Coupling?" he muttered dubiously. "Sure hope that crazy bastard knows what he's doing…"

Outside, Sentauri's spacecraft circled in a tight loop to settle over the top of the Jupiter, barely inches from the ship's upper dome. Flashes from the firefight behind them illuminated both vessels. Suddenly, twelve articulated cables shot from opposite sides of the saucer, six on a side. These began flailing wildly in all directions and seemingly without control, like the tentacles of some stupendous alien octopus about to grab its prey. Suddenly, completing the image, the tentacles whipped down and enveloped the Earth ship. They joined each other end to end under the Jupiter's belly and smoothed out so that they appeared to be continuous cables wrapping completely around the ship. Sentauri's vessel became stationary, rigidly supported now by the cables with hardly two feet between the bottom of the Alcandrian ship and the pulsing navigation dome at the top of the Jupiter. Even as this happened, several Alcandrian fighter saucers approached head-on, howled overhead, and swept on in the opposite direction on their way to engage the Selesian fighters. Wildly aimed energy blasts from the Selesian ships pursing the Jupiter were narrowly missing the strangely mated vessels.

"I'm getting hull stress warnings," John warned, eyeing an indicator. "Ordin, we are not engineered for this…"

"Can't be helped," Ordin called. "We're compensating as best we can…adding power now…"

Watching speed readouts, Don called in astonishment, "We're accelerating! This is amazing! Thirty percent increase in velocity and climbing, and I haven't touched the power! We're already at half light-speed!"

"Neutralize your controls," Ordin called. "Keep sheering inputs minimal. I've got you."

Don centered his control stick. "What's the hull integrity reading?"

"The gages spiked when he latched on," John replied, punching in some computer commands. "They're still high and out of the normal range, but we don't seem to be sustaining any damage."

West shook his head. "The Jupiter engineers back on Earth would be having my ass for what we're doing to this…"

"Begin advancing to full power," Ordin called, breaking in again. "Tell me when you're at one hundred percent thrust."

"Look!" Will exclaimed, coming up behind Don and the Professor and pointing at the radar readout even as Don began slowly pushing the thrust levers up. "We're pulling ahead of all those other ships!"

"Will…" John began, about to yell at him to take his seat, but Don interrupted him.

"Tell him we're at full thrust!"

"Ordin, we are at full thrust."

"Good. We're accelerating away from the other ships. I'll give you all I can. What course do you want?"

John and Don looked at each other. "Course?" Don muttered. "Uh…"

"I know!" Will said, running to the navigation station. Behind them, the lift whined to a halt. The Robot reached for the safety cage release button with an extended claw, and rolled onto the deck after the cage retracted.

Will's head snapped around, even while he punched in computer commands and adjusted settings. "Robot! I need your help! We need a course right now!"

"_That_ is why I am here," came the self-satisfied reply as the automaton approached the helm.

"Get to work, you disreputable dunderhead!" Smith hurled the insult at him as he passed. "We don't have time for your swaggering boasts! Just get us out of here!"

"Speed's at sixty percent light speed, we're going through our fuel too fast!" Don called out, concern tingeing his voice.

"Jupiter!" Ordin called again. "I won't be able to hold on much longer and still have fuel to return to help my comrades! What direction do you want at release?"

"Stand by, Ordin," John replied, and then looked over at his son. "Will…?"

"I'm working on it, Dad," Will answered, typing rapidly on the computer keyboard, frowning in concentration. "I have to get a fix on our original track-line, plot an intercept course, calculate a time/distance conversion…"

"Please, allow me," the Robot politely said, rolling to a stop next to him. "If you will insert the navigation cable quick-disconnect into my auxiliary receptacle, I can manipulate the data directly."

Whirling, Will grabbed the indicated cable and quickly plugged it into a receptacle on the Robot's front panel.

"I have connectivity with the system," the Robot affirmed coolly. "Calculating now."

"We're eighty percent light speed!" Don called. "Still accelerating, but not as fast! I need someone to watch that total fuel burn curve…"

"I'll do it!" Judy threw off her harness nearly as fast as Will had, jumped from her couch, and ran over to the engineering panel. "Is that it?" she asked, squinting at the gages and pointing at one in particular.

"Yeah," Don said. "Let me know when it enters that red arc."

"Got it."

Maureen unlatched her harness as well, sighing to herself. "Well, everyone else is up and running around…"

Penny's face lit up, and she reached for her quick release as well. Watching her mother carefully to avoid drawing attention, she climbed to her feet and sidled her way over to stand next to Will and the Robot. Maureen had gone to stand between John and Don, and watched the nebula outside through the viewport. Two of the cables from Ordin's ship could be seen on either side of the viewport.

"You people are insane," Smith grumbled huffily. "I'm going to stay right here, all nice and strapped in tight."

"Are we far enough away from those Selesians?" Maureen asked, trying to interpret the sensor display.

"Getting better," John replied, adjusting the gain on the radar scope. "But they may be able to catch us once Ordin disengages. He may have only given us some breathing room. I don't know how fast they are."

"Well, we're going pretty damn fast now," Don noted. "Maybe they won't have enough fuel to follow us this far out."

"Thirty seconds to disconnect!" Ordin called impatiently. "If you don't give me a course, I'll have to release you as we're pointed and hope you're going where you want to go!"

"Will!" John swiveled to look at his son. "We need something, son, and now. Do your best, but I'll take whatever you've got."

Will turned a panicky face towards him. "I'm not sure, Dad! These calculations take time! I'm not sure of the variables…"

"There you are."

The Robot's calm voice interrupted him. Will turned in surprise to the machine.

"You have a course?" Penny asked, much to Will's annoyance. He frowned to see her standing right behind him, watching everything.

"Yes," the Robot answered. His sensor paddles turned towards the helm. "I would like to transmit instructions directly to the Alcandrian spacecraft, Professor Robinson, if I may."

"Do it!" John snapped.

The Robot reached up and toggled the radio transmit switch adjacent to the navigation panel. "Alcandrian vessel, this is the Jupiter 2. Begin turn starboard, I will direct stop turn."

"Starboard?" came the puzzled reply. "Say again?"

"Turn right," the Robot gave his impression of a sigh, then seemed to have an inspiration. "Turn away from Alcandria."

"Ah. Turning away now. Ten seconds to separation."

"Starboard, indeed," Smith sniffed loudly. "We're in a spaceship, not in a sailboat, you babbling buffoon!" With another exasperated grunt, he threw off his restraining harness, got off his acceleration couch, and joined the family at the viewport.

"Reduce the Z-axis orientation of our vessels," the Robot called, ignoring the taunt. "Continue turn."

"Say again, Jupiter?"

"Point down and keep turning!" the Robot commanded irritably.

"Five seconds!"

"Increase rate of turn and stabilize nose orientation."

The artificial gravity compensators began their irritating whine again as they fought to compensate for the increased centrifugal forces as Ordin tightened his turn. Maureen grabbed the back of John's seat to keep her balance. Penny and Will both clutched wildly at the Robot, causing him to sway.

"Hull integrity values are off scale," John called to Major West. "We can't keep this up much longer…"

"Oh, dear!" Smith cried, falling against Judy, who threw her arms around him to keep him from falling. "I've always hated space travel!"

The two of them then lurched sideways to fetch up against Don's seat, but not before Judy had seen the total fuel burn indicator drop into the red colored arc. "Don, we're in the red!"

"Three! Two! One! Robinson, we must release!"

"Stop turn," the Robot commanded.

"Release!" John snapped into the microphone.

Outside, the multiple arms connecting the Alcandrian saucer to the Jupiter 2 released and flailed outwards. Sentauri pulled up furiously and the ship soared up and away as the arms retracted quickly back into the body of the ship. The Jupiter wobbled slightly then steadied on her new course, shooting ahead of Sentauri's ship like a rock from a slingshot.

"We're clear!" came Ordin's excited voice. "Good luck, Jupiter! Sentauri says we're heading back…"

The rest of his transmission faded abruptly and was lost in loud static. The Professor quickly adjusted a dial and spoke into the microphone. "Ordin, you're breaking up!" Static shrieked from the speakers again. "Ordin, if you can hear me…thank you, and good luck to you! All the best!" More loud static, and John swiftly disconnected the frequency.

"What happened?" Maureen asked, her hands on the back of John's chair. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know," John shrugged, looking vaguely concerned. "Maybe a radio problem…"

"I'll tell you what happened!" Don exclaimed, his voice strangely excited, pointing at a speed readout. "Look at that velocity…it's pegged off the scale! Whatever he did, as he broke free, something happened! Looks like he nudged us across the light speed barrier!" John straightened in surprise and checked some other indicators. "I believe you may be right…"

Don pointed at the radar screen. All the circling blips had vanished. "Look at the sensors…we're already clear of any signals! No sign of Ordin, the Selesians, or Alcandria. They're already off-scope! They're gone, left in our dust!"

"Look!" Penny called, pointing at the viewport. "Look outside!"

Everyone looked, agape. The nebula had disappeared. They were well past the boundaries of the glowing clouds of plasma containing the dual worlds of Selesia and Alcandria, left far behind. Ahead, stars could be seen, moving towards them in majestic slow motion. As the stars approached the edges of the viewport, they elongated into lines of light and disappeared out of their view.

"Didn't this same thing happen to us three years ago…when we left Earth and became lost in space?" Dr. Smith fretted angrily. "It's happening again! Those disreputable aliens have put us over the light barrier into hyperspace or whatever you call it!"

"Faster than light!" Will exclaimed, marveling. "Here we go again!"

105


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note to My Patient Readers: Take a break after that long chapter 10…this chapter 11 is a short one preparatory to the finale in chapter 12. The end is imminent, not much further to go!

Lost in Space, The Return, Chapter 11: Shortcut

"Faster than light!" Will repeated as he stared outside.

The Jupiter's engine was thrumming quietly in the background as the rest of the family took in the view. Stars continued their stately progression from an indeterminate center point to the edges of the ship's viewport, sailing past as if they were special effects from a video game.

"Well, Don?" John asked, tearing his gaze away from the moving panorama of stars and glancing sideways at the pilot. "Now what?"

Major West was ignoring the dramatic view, his hands flying over the panels, his eyes darting over the instruments. "I don't know. Maybe Ordin added some extra power as he disconnected, nudging us over the light barrier. He probably didn't mean to do that, I guess. I'd better pull off some power…" He reached for the thrust lever which was still at the full forward stop.

"Wait!" John warned, grabbing West's wrist, startling the pilot. "Let's not be precipitous. We don't know what will happen if we pull power now. Robot, report! Where are we? What's going on outside?"

"Visual indications notwithstanding," the Robot said, "I am accessing the ship's sensors to make an accurate determination. Please stand by."

Standing behind them next to Judy, Dr. Smith complained loudly, "We are going too fast. You need to slow down! The engines are going to explode!"

"We only have one engine, you idiot," West snarled peevishly, reaching for some switches. "Everything seems stable enough right now, but our fuel consumption is too high." He waved at the gage Judy had been monitoring. "We're already dipping into our reserves as it is."

"Analysis complete," the Robot informed them.

"Yes?" John prompted.

The Robot took on his characteristic professorial tone as he explained. "The added acceleration from the alien spaceship propelled us into hyper-light speed and into an undetected but proximate superluminal distortion of space and time."

"What are you babbling about now?" Smith scowled at him, stamping his foot in irritation. "Talk in English, you mechanical misery! We have no time for your pedantic…"

"We're in a wormhole!" Will broke in.

The Robot swiveled approvingly towards him. "That is a term coined by American physicist John Wheeler in 1957. I cannot confirm that phenomenon. However, space and time have apparently folded, leaving us traveling through an anomaly. Distance appears to be irrelevant. We are in fact travelling faster than would be possible in normal space, and much faster than light speed." He stiffened. "One moment, please…" His sensor paddles rotated away, and the ever-present clicking sounds coming from within his mechanical brain increased in tempo.

"Well," Don began, "wormhole, anomaly, or whatever, we need to get control of this situation…"

"Alert!" the Robot interrupted, agitated, his bubble top snapping up and his sensor paddles twisting towards them. He extended his arms, as if in surprise. "Begin deceleration immediately! Otherwise, I calculate an overshoot of the objective in forty two seconds!"

Don froze, startled. "_What_?"

"Objective?!" Smith broke in hopefully, leaning forward. "Which objective?"

"I have computed our trajectory and velocity," the Robot continued, waving his arms with some passion and causing the cables connecting him to the panel to flail about. He had everyone's attention. "We must exit this effect or we shall overshoot our objective by hundreds of light-years! Thirty five seconds to arrival. Recommend power reduction to force a breakout from the effect!"

"_Which _objective?" Smith pressed hysterically.

"Pulling it back," Don affirmed, easing the thrust levers aft while scanning his instruments. The engine's volume began falling off.

"Do not change the vector!" the Robot warned as he saw the pilot reaching for the control stick. "The slightest perturbation in our vector will send us thousands of parsecs…"

"I got it!" West growled tensely, but his hand eased away from the stick.

John said, "Keep it slow. We don't know what's going to happen when we transition over the light speed threshold, or exit this wormhole. Everybody grab a hold of something." The family all made moves to brace themselves on whatever was handy.

"Twenty seconds to exit the effect," the Robot called. "Velocity is falling off."

Don continued slowly drawing the thrust levers back. The rest of the family was dividing their attention between watching him and staring mesmerized at the slowly approaching star fields outside the viewport. Perceptibly, their movement began to slow and the elongated star tracks began to shorten back to points.

"Ten seconds," the Robot said. "The deceleration rate curve is within computed parameters. Five seconds to light speed threshold."

"Here it comes!" John called, clutching the armrests of his seat.

"Easy…" Don spoke to himself.

The stellar movement eased to a visual stop. At that moment, there was a bright flash from outside and the ship gave a violent upward lurch that overcame the gravity compensators and sent everyone not seated staggering. Penny and Will grabbed the Robot, but Maureen, Judy, and Dr. Smith fell backwards together, sprawling full length onto the deck. An inadequately secured panel crashed to the floor with a loud metallic clang. Overhead lights dimmed momentarily, and then resumed their normal illumination.

"I suppose that must have been the light speed barrier," Don observed dryly.

"We have exited the wormhole," the Robot stated, retracting his arms. "The ship appears to be in normal space."

"Perhaps," John said, scanning the panels. "Everything else seems all right." He straightened and glanced outside. "Interesting effect. I hope our computers gathered some data on it." He swiveled in his chair. "Everyone okay…?" He saw his wife and the others sprawled on the deck. "Maureen! Judy! Are you…?" He began unstrapping his seat belt to go to their assistance.

"Oh, my back!" Dr. Smith lamented from his prone position on the deck, grimacing melodramatically.

Maureen was feeling the back of her head after coming up on one elbow. "Ouch. I'll have a lump there in a little bit." She climbed laboriously to her feet, taking John's proffered hand.

"Judy?" John asked solicitously, reaching down for his daughter.

"I'm fine, Dad," Judy said with a half-smile, taking John's hand and climbing to her feet. "Here, Dr. Smith," she turned, reaching down a hand. "Let me help you up."

"Oh!" he repeated as he took her hand and climbed to his feet with much groaning, placing his hand on the small of his back. "I will be an invalid forever! I told you we should all stay strapped in! I'll never be the same. My delicate back is a disaster area. It must be broken in several places." He fingered the back of his neck with growing concern. "I believe I may have whiplash as well! Damn you, Major!"

"Now, Dr. Smith," Maureen chided. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Oh, knock it off, Smith!" West barked in exasperation while he continued adjusting the controls as the ship continued to decelerate.

"Where are we now?" Penny asked, glancing out the viewport after untangling herself from Will and the Robot. Only a vast cloud of faint, distant stars met her gaze. "And what was that flash?"

John returned to the helm, sat down, and began examining the readouts, making some adjustments. "No idea. Maybe some effect from exiting the wormhole. Don, slow us to a comfortable speed and run a full system check, starting with propulsion and fuel." He glanced out the viewport, noting the expanse of stars. "Robot! You're on navigation. Get me a navigation fix or see if you can identify any nearby stars or planets."

"I can do it!" Will said, rushing to the navigation console. "Let me!"

The Robot did not answer the Professor, but seemed to whir pensively to himself.

"I thought I saw us getting close to one of the stars," Penny said, squinting out the viewport. "It was right in the middle and getting bigger."

"Yes," Judy added thoughtfully. "Then, there was that flash, sort of like we passed something…"

John looked curiously at Don, who had begun muttering to himself in uncharacteristic ill-humor. "What's wrong? Do we have a problem?"

West snapped irritably at a switch, then sat back in his seat. "This is so damned pointless. We used vectors figured by Will from engine parameters--which was pretty much a long shot, you've got to admit--detoured onto another alien planet, flew through a nebula, went faster than the speed of light pretty much out of control, and now we're…_here_." He waved bitterly at the viewport, where only the void of star-speckled space met his gaze. "Look out there. Nothing. We're lost in space, _again_. Or, maybe, _still_."

John silently contemplated the view for a moment. He turned back to his friend, placing a calming hand on Don's arm. "We'll see," he said gently, burying the sinking feeling that was threatening to overcome him as well. "You've done well. I know you're frustrated. Let's just give Will and the Robot a chance to fix our position. Then," he paused, worked up a forced smile, and repeated himself. "Well, we'll see."

"Lost in space, again?" Dr. Smith murmured softly, clasping his hands over his heart and staring out at the star-filled viewport. "I cannot bear it any longer." He turned away and shuffled towards the elevator. "Oh, the pain, the pain…"

"Do you see the vector analysis graph?" the Robot asked Will, his tone incongruous. "Do you see where it intersects with the navigation plot?"

Will stared blankly at a line on a computer generated display. "Yeah. But that would mean…" A light began to dawn in his eyes.

"I think you see my point. It is not far behind us. For confirmation, I suggest you use the ship's external navigational sextant."

"I forgot about that!" Will said eagerly. "We can see all around us with that, if it still works…"

"What are you two talking about?" Maureen asked, moving over to stand near Will

Will became preoccupied and hunched tensely over the navigation station, twisting dials, observing readouts. He hit a button, and a twin-lense viewer, like the optics of a microscope, extended from the navigation panel. At the same time, on the upper hull outside the ship, a thin probe extended several feet from the Jupiter, thus giving him a three-hundred-sixty degree visual around the ship. Leaning forward, Will squinted into the optics and, with his right hand, twisted a knob right and left.

"Hey, Robot!" he cried eagerly. "It does still work. I can see the top of the hull. In fact, I see…" He stopped abruptly, gasped, and pulled away, staring at the viewfinder like it had stung him.

"What's wrong with you?" Penny asked, seeing the look on his face. "See a space monster or something out there?"

Will looked over at her, a huge grin spreading over his face.

Penny snorted uncertainly. "What?"

The Robot clicked and whirred to himself but remained oddly silent, as if relishing some sort of anticipation. Will peered speechlessly from one to another, beaming like it was Christmas.

"Son?" John prompted, swiveling in his chair. "Okay, spill it. You obviously have something to tell us. Out with it."

"Don," Will said with a slight tremor in his voice. "Can you turn the ship around? I mean, just rotate it towards the right about a hundred twenty degrees? There's something out there I want to show you. All of you."

Dr. Smith had reached the lift and pressed the button that opened the safety cage. It slid open and he was about to step on, but he stopped and turned curiously towards Will.

West regarded him steadily, finally saying, "Okay. I'll bring the nose around."

"This vessel is saucer-shaped," the Robot announced irrelevantly. "It does not have a nose."

Everyone, rightfully, ignored him.

Tilting the control stick slightly, Don started the ship around. The ship vibrated to its side thrusters, and the star field outside began moving from right to left as the ship turned. All eyes were on the viewport. Halfway through the turn, a sliver of intense, bright light appeared on the far left bulkhead of the viewport and enlarged as the ship turned. Something very bright was off their starboard side.

"Engaging viewport filters," John announced, pushing a button.

The light dimmed to comfortable levels as the internal window tinting was electrically energized, but the light-washed area continued to increase as the ship came about. An anticipatory hush gripped the family as they drew closer to the viewport, and every last one of them was holding his or her breath. Smith was walking slowly back, as if drawn to the front of the ship in spite of himself. Stars dimmed as the light from the unknown source banished them from sight. Then, as if a sun was rising from the side, a brilliant disk made its appearance, causing the viewport filters to darken further. Don neutralized the control stick once the star came centered in the viewport, and the relative motion stopped.

"Okay, it's a star," Penny noted dismissively when no one said anything, squinting at it in spite of the filters. "We're pretty close. Any idea what it is?"

"It is a G-type, yellow-orange, medium-sized, main-sequence star," the Robot said blandly. "It is composed of mostly hydrogen, and, to a lesser extent, helium." Was there a hint of mechanical drollery in the Robot's voice? If it was there, no one seemed to notice it.

"Good thing we didn't come out of that wormhole or whatever it was any closer than this," Don remarked. He glanced at a readout. "I'm reading strong solar radiation at this distance, but nothing dangerous."

"But," Judy asked, "where are we, then? What star is that?"

The yellow light from the star shone warmly on all their faces.

John swiveled testily towards the Robot and opened his mouth to speak.

"Attention," the Robot interrupted as if just waiting for his moment. "Will Robinson suggested a turn of one hundred twenty degrees. That," he continued, pointing a claw at the star, "is not really the object of interest. You have only turned ninety-eight degrees. I would recommend completion of the turn through the additional twenty-two degrees. A planetary body can be seen in that position."

Will was positively glowing with a smile from ear to ear.

"All right, let's see it," John murmured softly, eyeing his son and the Robot like they were two conspirators. "Take us around, Don."

The control stick tilted towards the right as Don maneuvered the ship further around. The star passed towards the left side of the viewport and moved out of sight, although it was still shining on the right bulkhead of the viewport. The filters eased somewhat, and, at the same time, the planet came into view.

It was a small, round, intensely blue ball sitting against the velvety blackness of space. About the relative size of a softball in the viewport, it was clearly some distance away. However, even at that distance, the planet nonetheless displayed indefinite swirling whites of an atmosphere and more defined browns and greens underneath. Three-quarters of its face was illuminated by the star as the world rode majestically against the backdrop of the galaxy.

The Robot's bubble top slowly lowered as Don brought the ship's rotation to a stop, framing the planet in the center of the window. Stretching out the moment, the Robot spoke slowly. "Our vector at the release from Ordin's ship was accurate, and I have confirmed Will Robinson's other calculations." A note of pride crept into his artificial voice. "He has done an admirable job, and should be commended. In fact, you might say he has done the impossible."

He laid one accordion-like arm gently on Will's shoulder. The boy looked up gratefully at his friend.

Everyone else had eyes only for the tiny world, its warm blue glow reflected in their misting eyes as the realization sunk in. No one moved, they hardly breathed. They could have been statues. Even the normal ship background noises seemed subdued somehow.

"Tell them," the Robot prompted gently.

"That is it, Dad," Will said brightly. "No question about it. Home."

The Jupiter floated silently in the ethereal void of space, basking in the blue-white glow from Earth.

10


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note to My Loyal Readers: Well, kind Readers, _**this is it**_. The chapter you have been waiting for. I really enjoyed crafting this one and tried to make the climax of the adventure a memorable and exciting one, juxtapositioning the LIS world with the world as we know it today. You'll see what I mean as you plunge in. After this chapter, only the Epilogue is left, which I will publish in a few days. For now, turn down the lights, put the cell phone on vibrate, lock the door, and hang on. I hope you'll find this one was worth the wait! _Onward!_

Lost in Space, The Return, Chapter 12 The Reentry

Robert Sagan slumped at his console, idly making complicated loops with his pencil on a legal pad. He was middle aged, somewhat short, and balding. Wire-frame glasses were on his face, and he was dressed in a white shirt, black pants, and black tie. NASA identification tags were clipped to his shirt, and several pens stuck out from his front shirt pockets. It was a retro "sixties" look that had become popular again with the controllers, and he liked how it fit him. A thin headset was bent over the crown of his head, with a single earpiece stuck in his right ear. From this, a slender boom microphone extended around his face and stopped close to his mouth.

The lights in the Flight Control Room at the Johnson Space Center in Houston were all brightly illuminated, but the engineer was alone in the quiet room except for a janitor who was making his rounds, noisily emptying trash cans. On top of Sagan's console was the nameplate "CAPCOM", but his nickname among the tightly knit group of flight controllers was "Crash", for reasons obscure. He reached up for the umpteenth time that long night to adjust several frequency scanners and heard nothing other than the random static of space.

His eyes strayed to a far wall, over rows of other unattended consoles, where pictures of many of NASA's mission spacecraft were prominently and dramatically displayed. The space shuttle Atlantis was there, as were the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo capsules. The mighty Saturn V rocket vehicle was depicted launching from Cape Kennedy, and the International Space Station hovered over the Earth with a rising sun in the background. Various unmanned missions were depicted: Voyager, Galileo, the Mars landers, the Viking mission.

However, there was another picture on the wall his eyes lingered upon, one that always evoked varied emotions in the flight controller. It was a nighttime view of an articulated gantry unlike all the others. Three enormous angled girders spread upwards like the extended fingers of a giant hand, reaching upwards and awash in the light from ground floodlights. Support cranes, cables, various tubes and other gantries were scattered haphazardly around these main girders. Swirling dust and faint smoke were captured in the beams from the floodlights, giving the clear impression that this was an action shot.

But the real object of the picture, and upon which the unknown photographer's lense was centered, seemed to hover several feet over the gantry, frozen in a thundering and exciting moment of time. It was, of course, the Jupiter 2, the most famous "flying saucer" of the Twentieth Century, seconds after launch on that momentous date of October 16, 1997. It was a dramatic shot, showcasing a time of intense hope in the future and pride of accomplishment. The silver hull seemed to glow with an otherworldly, internal light in the reflected floods. The lights from the propulsion pod were blurred into segmented bits of light and dark. The bubble on top of the ship blazed outwards like a beacon, while internal cabin lights could just be made out through the open viewport.

Fifteen years had passed since that catastrophic day when the Jupiter 2 mission to Alpha Centauri went so unbelievably wrong. Days after the tragic loss of contact with the vessel and its disappearance from all sensors, whether Earth-based or in orbit, a congressional committee was convened to investigate the details of what was called "The Accident." Weeks of political finger-pointing, unending scientific speculation, and obscure technical testimony did little to shed light on the event. In the end, the conclusion of the blue-ribbon panel was that the ship had experienced a "catastrophic electrical anomaly that resulted in a fire, destroying the vessel from the inside, causing the deaths of all aboard who were still in cryo-sleep." The presence of one Dr. Zachary Smith on board the doomed vessel had never been adequately explained, and conspiracy theorists were still weaving conflicting tales involving everything from alien invaders to terrorist spies to intentional government malfeasance. In fact, some asserted that "The Accident" was entirely a government fabrication, a simulation conducted in a Hollywood special effects studio, to cover up the real mission of the Jupiter, whatever that was. There was no shortage of wild theories on the Internet on this subject, and any Google search on "Jupiter 2" or "Robinsons" would bring up millions of results.

In any case, much of the blame for the debacle was leveled upon Alpha Control, the space control organization that had been formed specifically for the Jupiter mission. While defending their procedures and asserting that there was no inherent design flaw that could have caused the Jupiter to catch fire, they were nonetheless vilified by the media and became the scapegoat for posturing politicians. Unable to recover from the enormity of the fiasco, Alpha Control was shut down in favor of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration's Mission Control Center at the Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas, and all responsibility for any further actions regarding the Jupiter mission transferred to them. However, there was little for NASA to do in that area, since the seven members of the Robinson team had long presumed to be dead, and the ship destroyed.

And what did the American public believe after all the official investigations had been closed? Some believed the first space family perished when the Jupiter, having lost navigational guidance, plowed into an uncharted meteor field and was smashed into oblivion. Others said it was the fire that killed the family, leaving the vessel drifting and powerless, a virtual ghost ship, lost forever in the void of space. However, a small minority asserted that the brave family undoubtedly could have survived the events of October 16, 1997. These people believed that, while the automatic telemetry from the ship indicated nothing but a catastrophic failure of multiple systems, there was a slim chance that the Robinsons had persevered and salvaged the events of that day, but were unable to communicate with Earth. In fact, there was an underlying conviction that the Robinsons might still be alive in some distant corner of the galaxy, heroically striving either to complete their mission to Alpha Centauri and establish themselves on another world, or simply return to Earth after their long, weary years apart from humanity. And, some of these staunch believers were the policy makers at NASA.

For this reason, NASA was loathe to abandon the first space family to oblivion, and they had a small but dedicated group of professionals who continually searched the heavens for signs of the first United States vessel to attempt to reach the stars. For example, the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, or SETI, Institute, in California had dedicated continuing radio telescope observation of the heavens through their Allen Telescope Array, established more than two hundred miles northeast of San Francisco. While the ATA had many projects demanding attention, they still maintained a listening watch on likely microwave frequency bands for any distant communication from the Jupiter 2.

Back at the Johnson Space Center, the CAPCOM console was continually manned, even during the slack time between other space exploration missions. The task was rotated voluntarily among all the controllers, and they considered it their honorable duty to ensure listening watches were maintained for the lost Robinsons. Someone had informally termed the duty "We'll Keep The Lights On For You," and many in the rank and file levels of the space agency wore unofficial "WKTLOFY" wristbands. These limited edition bracelets were much sought after and highly prized, almost as badges of honor.

So, that was why, on this Wednesday night, or, perhaps, more accurately, early Thursday morning, September 13, 2012, "Crash" Sagan was manning the graveyard shift by himself in Flight Control Room 1. There were no other personnel present, since NASA was concentrating more on the multi-million dollar refurbishment of the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. The Constellation program had been cancelled two years ago, and the space shuttle retired at the end of 2010. No other interstellar missions had been funded or attempted after the ill-fated Jupiter operation. While some commercial attempts at space travel were in various stages of work or investigation, America appeared to have lost its appetite for space exploration.

Crash was well aware of the activities at the Space Center, or lack thereof, but he was a dedicated professional. While, personally and somewhat pessimistically, he believed the Robinson family had likely turned to dust years ago, he agreed with the philosophy to maintain an "open frequency" in case a miracle happened and the Robinsons returned from the their long exile in space. Many times, on long nights like this, his mind returned to the statement from the Controller's Creed, mounted next to the entrance to the Flight Control Room.

"To always be aware that suddenly and unexpectedly we may find ourselves in a role where our performance has ultimate consequences," he murmured to himself, writing out the word "ultimate" on his pad of paper, with a capital "U."

"Pardon, sir?"

Crash flicked his eyes over the top of the console, barely raising his head, to see the janitor staring at him, a trash can poised over the big bin he was wheeling around the room. "Sorry, Jerry," he sighed. "Just talking to myself. It's a bad habit I've acquired on nights like these."

"I guess so, sir," Jerry replied, tilting the trash can further and emptying its contents noisily into the large bin. He replaced the trash can next to the console marked "Flight," then continued. "I talk to myself sometimes, too, at night. No one else to talk to. Makes this place a little less spooky."

Crash laughed humorlessly, glancing around the brightly lit room. "Spooky? That's hardly a term I'd use to describe this place." He waved a hand. "Look at all this technology, 'gee-whiz' stuff, and bright lights. Computers, flat screens, lots of buttons." He shook his head. "No ghosts here."

Jerry's face remained serious, and he wagged a finger at the controller. "Many people have died in our program to explore space. You don't think they might be haunting this place?"

Intrigued in spite of himself, he leaned back in his chair, holding a pencil between the fingers of both hands. "Like who?"

The janitor shrugged and scratched the back of his head. "Well, I don't know."

Crash happened to glance over again at the picture of the Jupiter 2. He pointed at it with his chin. "I suppose you think the Robinsons are haunting these hallowed halls, eh?"

Jerry followed his gaze, grinned, and waved dismissively, relaxing. "Nah, they're not ghosts. They're still alive, exploring the universe somewhere."

Surprised at the instinctive response, Crash eyed the blue-collar man doubtfully and decided to keep him talking to see where it would lead. He was bored, anyway. "You're sure, then, are you?"

"Of course I'm sure, boss," Jerry asserted confidently. "You mark my words. They're out there, and they'll be back someday. You keep listening to those there radios, and I'll bet you'll hear from 'em someday. I'll bet you do."

"Well," Crash waved at the CAPCOM panel, "that's what I'm here for. I'll be here until someone pulls the plug, NASA runs out of money, or the Robinsons come home. And when I do hear from the space family Robinson, I'll be sure to let you know."

Jerry beamed as if he were being admitted to a very selective fraternity. "Why, thank you, boss! I surely appreciate that. I surely do."

Jerry saluted, then walked off and out of the room, whistling happily to himself and pushing his refuse bin squeakily ahead of him. Crash, shaking his head, watched him go, oddly moved by the man's childlike faith. The door closed behind the janitor, and Crash was alone again.

He leaned back further in his chair, causing it to screech loudly, and he stretched, placing his hands behind his head. He pondered for a few moments, his eyes wandering about the room, thinking about what Jerry had said, and the way he said it. Crash's gaze slowly came down to his panel, and he took notice of a particular switch, which he stared at with some intensity. He leaned upright again, evoking another protesting squawk from his chair, and frowned at the switch.

Why was he getting a very peculiar but growing feeling that he needed to actuate that switch? It was the master transmit switch, the one that would open the frequency currently selected on his radio panel. Had his desultory conversation with Jerry stimulated some kind of subliminal suggestion? He glanced down, and realized his hand was moving towards that switch, almost of its own volition. He watched, fascinated, as his fingers paused over the switch, hovering like a predator about to pounce. He glanced guiltily about the deserted control room, and then he flicked the switch, opening the preprogrammed frequency. There was a distinctive click in the headset he was wearing. His lips angled slightly towards the boom mike in front of his mouth. Pausing briefly, he opened his mouth and spoke clearly and slowly, enunciating every word carefully.

"Jupiter 2, Jupiter 2, this is Houston, come in please."

Static came out of the open frequency. Peculiar and unexpected chills chased themselves up and down his arms and down his spine at the moment he heard his voice echoing out into the infinite cosmos. His was one lone voice, carrying out into the vast emptiness of an uncaring and boundless universe. He was not sure such words had been uttered over an open frequency in many years, and the lateness of the night and his solitude in the empty control room combined to make him glance nervously about, as if he was afraid his words might conjure up those spirits from the previous century that Jerry had been babbling about. Perhaps the caretaker was right. Perhaps out there, there were ghosts? Or…were they here?

"Jupiter 2, Jupiter 2, this is Houston, acknowledge, please."

More static, but it became muted. Was someone out there listening? He got an impression that someone was. Who, or what, could be listening? What was out there?

Suddenly, he felt self-conscious, coming to himself abruptly, and he straightened in his seat. His words were being recorded automatically. Later in the morning, the Flight Director would play back his words and ask him what the hell he was doing. He might even question his professionalism and qualification to be a flight controller, to say nothing of his sanity. Crash began to feel a bit silly, like he had just used a NASA space frequency to request that a certain famous starship engineer should beam him up!

Nonetheless, those chills still chased themselves around his body, unaccountably. He tossed his head and grunted in annoyance at himself. But, as if driven by something beyond himself, he spoke again into the celestial void.

"Jupiter 2, Jupiter 2, this is Houston, come in please."

What was he doing? Why was he still repeating this radio call?

"Crash, what the hell are you doing," he muttered in exasperation as he began reaching to close the frequency. "Damn fool. No one is listening. No one is out there. I'm an ass, and someone's gonna give me a helluva ribbing about this in the morning…"

His finger touched the switch, preparatory to turning it off, and he repeated one more time in a somewhat crabby tone, "Jupiter 2, this is Houston. Please come in." He increased pressure on his finger to close the frequency.

As he did, a noise came out of his earphone, and he snatched his hand away from the transmit switch like it was red hot. What was that? His free hand moved instinctively up to his headset, pressing the earpiece more tightly into his ear. He frowned in concentration. Had there been a modulation in the static, something that sounded almost like a word? Was some natural force, a solar flare or anomaly in the radiation belt surrounding the Earth, conspiring with other natural forces to create a momentary but random sound like the coherent word? Was he imagining things? Was he losing his grip on reality, listening to mind-numbing static for hours at a time? Was he simply over-tired at this early hour of a Thursday morning?

"Hello? Transmitting station, this is Houston Control, please repeat. Come in, please."

"…control, Alpha…this…two…call…"

Words! Static rose to a crescendo and drowned them out. Crash straightened abruptly in his seat, twirling a dial and punching several buttons, trying to clear the frequency, instantly transforming from bored idler into professional controller. "Transmitting station, this is Houston Control at the Johnson Space Center. You are transmitting on an unauthorized NASA frequency. Please identify yourself."

"…Alpha…Jupiter…call…who…"

Crash leaned forward. "Transmitting station, you are unreadable. You are not authorized to use this frequency. If you require comm, suggest you come up on two-five-nine decimal seven megahertz for a clearer frequency and radio check."

"…acknowl…two-five…seven…there…"

Crash punched in the new frequency on his radio management panel, but his mind was buzzing. This was a reserved frequency for ground-to-space communications. Who could possibly be on this frequency, at this hour, and why? It had to be a mistake, and he would clear it up in short order. And, if it were some sort of prankster, this joker would find out he was in serious trouble with the Federal Communications Commission, in addition to NASA and possibly the FBI.

"Unknown rider, unknown rider," Crash transmitted after switching frequencies, using the callsign for unidentified aircraft. "If you are on this frequency, please identify yourself. This is Houston Control."

"Houston Control?" It was a male voice, authoritative, clear, and commanding, although uncertain. There was still some background interference, but overall the frequency was clear. "Okay, Houston, I am looking for a frequency for Alpha Control. Can you assist?"

The chills were back. Alpha Control? Crash leaned forward, tensely, into his microphone. "Unknown rider, unknown rider, this is Houston Control. You are on a restricted NASA Earth-to-orbit frequency." He paused, then plunged on. "Alpha Control is not on this frequency, and has not been operational for many years. You are speaking to Houston Control. Please identify station ID and location."

More static. Crash had not noticed that he had stopped breathing as he began entertaining crazy thoughts. His whole body was tense as an iron bar. Somehow, he knew this was not a prank call. It was something else. He took a breath.

"Unknown rider, unknown rider, this is Houston. I repeat, please identify and verify location. Do you require assistance?"

Static, static, static. Then, the frequency seemed to clear. Crash leaned forward even more, one hand over his ear to cut out any other sound but that in the earpiece.

"Houston Control, this is the United States space exploration vessel Jupiter 2. I repeat, this is the Jupiter 2. How do you read?"

Frozen, Crash stared at his console, his eyes blinking rapidly. Momentarily, his mind gridlocked between the thought that this was impossible, against the need for immediate action. Then, he exploded into motion, scrabbling through papers and manuals on the desk, sending pencils and empty paper coffee cups flying onto the floor Jerry had so recently cleaned.

"Dammit!" he muttered feverishly to himself. "Where the hell is it? Where is it? Gotta be here somewhere…"

Looking up, he saw a stack of manuals on top of his console. He leaped to his feet and grabbed one particular book from the middle of the stack, sending the others crashing to the floor in an untidy, twisted heap. He ignored the mayhem he was creating, slapped the manual onto his desk, and frenziedly flipped through the well-worn, dog-eared book. He was looking for a specific page, ripping several pages in the process. He swore furiously at the sound of tearing, brittle paper. It was an old book.

"Houston Control, this is the Jupiter 2. Did you read us?"

Crash's glasses slid down his nose, his headset was awry. In scrabbling through the manuals, he had knocked the microphone of his headset up; it was stuck to his forehead like a deranged umbilical. He found what he was looking for in the manual under a section that was tabbed "Emergency Communication." He re-adjusted his headset, pushed up his glasses, pulled down the microphone, and keyed the transmit button. "Unknown rider, unknown rider, this is Houston Control." He licked suddenly dry lips. "Stand by for authentication. Use full callsign again and authenticate india-alpha."

He had stopped breathing again. His body was completely rigid. Time had stopped. He waited. His entire being was focused on listening. He felt conflicting emotions at the same time: hope that this could be true, anger that someone was making a fool of him. A drop of sweat trickled unheeded down the side of his forehead.

A wash of static preceded the transmission. "Houston, this is the deep space Earth vessel Jupiter 2. I don't know if this is the correct response, we've been gone a while. But, using the tables we were provided at launch in 1997, I'd have to respond: _oscar_."

Crash stared at the page in his manual. It was out of a classified authentication table fifteen years old, but it was the correct response to his challenge. He was supposed to provide a two letter challenge, and the responder replied with one letter. If both individuals were using the same table, both would have the correct challenge and response. And, it was the book NASA had instructed controllers to use should the improbable ever happen and they had a need to authenticate the bona fides of the last United States mission to the stars.

"Houston, this is the Jupiter 2. I say again: OSCAR. Is that not correct?"

Crash grunted explosively, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead in disbelief, staring at the response column in his authentication table. This document had never been released to the public. The authentication checked.

"Jupiter 2? Good God. This is Houston." He paused, uncertain what to say next. He had never thought much beyond the required identification procedure. When he finally spoke, his mouth was uncharacteristically dry. "Affirmative. Authentication checks. Er, to whom am I speaking?"

"This is Professor John Robinson of the Jupiter 2." A pause. "We're back!"

"Jupiter 2, Houston. Uh…please stand by." Crash lunged for a nearby phone, punched a series of numbers, and waited. As he listened to the ringing on the other end, he had a sudden thought, reached up, and keyed his mike. Before he spoke, he glanced over at the voice recorder panel and knew history was being made right now. Anything said would likely be replayed for generations, similar to the historic announcement from the first moon landing in 1969, or the first man actually stepping out on the moon. He keyed the mike, paused, and said, "Jupiter 2, Houston." He shook his head again in defeat, realizing he was not up to the task of immortal words. All he could manage was, "Welcome home!"

* * * * *

"Fuel is critical," Major Don West was speaking to CAPCOM. "We have nothing left in reserve, and we don't have enough for a powered re-entry. I'm sending telemetry data to you now for analysis, but I don't see a lot of options here."

"Roger, Jupiter," came the voice from the radio. "We have a good link with you…we're receiving your data. Our contingency team is assembling now…there's a steady inflow of people into the flight control room. As you can probably imagine, we're not quite ready to receive a returning and long-missing starship!"

"Roger that, Houston," West laughed. "I imagine so."

"Starship?" Will repeated. "He called us a starship!"

"Well," Penny said. "That's what we are!"

"Oh, voices from Earth!" Dr. Smith crooned, clasping his hands before him. "No opera could sound so sweet!" He was standing with the whole family, crowded around the viewport behind the pilot seats. The view of Earth was occupying nearly two-thirds of the window, growing larger as they approached.

"It is beautiful," Maureen breathed reverently. Her eyes were lost in vistas of clouds, familiar continents, and seas that were emerging as they approached. Africa, Europe, and Asia could be clearly seen. The demarcation between day and night was slowly crawling westbound over Australia's eastern coast. "It has been _such_ a long time."

Professor Robinson, his own face bathed in the blue glow from ahead, reached up to cover her hand resting on his shoulder. "Unbelievable. It is quite a sight after all these years."

"And, even more years on Earth!" Will exclaimed. "That is so cool! Is it really 2012, and not 2000, like we thought?"

"I just don't get the whole relativity thing," Penny added. "How could fifteen years have passed on Earth, when only three years have passed for us? Is it really 2012 down there?"

"Well, that's what Houston says," West assured her, "and I doubt those boys have any problems reading a calendar. Sounds like Einstein knew what he was talking about."

"Earth has aged faster than we have," Judy said, shaking her head. "Sounds like science fiction, time warps, stuff like that."

The Robot turned from the navigation console, where he was standing. "'There once was a young lady named Bright, who could travel much faster than light. She set out one day, in a relative way, and came back the previous night.'"

Seven startled heads turned as one to stare at the Robot.

"What?" Don said incredulously. "What did you…?"

"Drivel and poppycock, you jabbering jackanape!" Dr. Smith interrupted, glaring at the Robot as if he had lost his mind. "Your computers have finally gone over the deep end!"

"I didn't know you could do limericks," the Professor observed dryly.

"Arthur Henry Reginald Buller, in the December 19, 1923 issue of Punch magazine," the Robot explained pedantically, "ridiculing Einstein's revolutionary theories of relativity. I am merely quoting what he said."

"Well, that's all well and good," West said, "but limericks won't get us more fuel. Nor will Einstein, I think. We still have some serious flying to do, and I don't know if we have enough gas to do it."

"They can send more!" Smith suggested hopefully. "Those people in Houston…they can send another ship up to refuel us in space!"

"By the time they worked up a refueling mission to meet us," John said, "we would be so far past Earth they wouldn't be able to catch us, and we would be lost in space again. We are still going pretty fast. We have to perform some kind of braking action to ensure we don't pass Earth."

"No!" Smith countered. "We're so close! This is ridiculous. Earth is so close, I could practically touch it." He suddenly brightened with inspiration. "I have it! Just put us into orbit, Major, and we can wait! Just do the orbit thing, and they can even shuttle us down if necessary! Just leave the ship in orbit! There's not even a need to land!"

"Abandon the Jupiter?" Judy asked doubtfully.

"Certainly," Smith assured her, the idea growing on him. "Why do we need the ship? They can come meet us in orbit! Why risk another landing when we don't need to…?"

"Smith, look at the fuel panel!" West broke in, exasperated. "We used up all our reserves just to get away from Alcandria, and during all that light speed warping stuff, or whatever it was! We don't have anything left."

"For a landing, sure," Smith pressed. "But we don't need fuel just to stay in orbit…"

"Idiot!" Don bristled. "Don't you get it? We're nearly out of fuel. Fuel powers the engine. The engine powers the generators and everything else on this ship. No fuel means no power, no life support, no heat, no air, no nothing! We become a powerless floating piece of metal."

John was leaning on the helm, his chin in his hand, staring at the nearing Earth. "Don's right. We have to put down now or risk complete power failure when our fuel is exhausted."

"But…" Smith began, panic setting in again.

John waved at the viewport, cutting him off. "We're getting closer to Earth by the minute. We're going to have to execute a braking or re-entry maneuver soon, and, either way, that will pretty much use up the rest of our fuel. We could orbit the ship, but we'll have complete shutdown within twenty-four hours when we burn through the remainder of our deutronium."

"Houston has already told us it would take weeks, probably months, to get a space shuttle out of mothballs and configured for a rescue mission," Don added. "The Russians can't do any better. None of the new commercial space companies can attempt anything." He waved at the globe glowing in the middle of the viewport. "Anyway you look at it, we have to go straight in, now, full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes, Earth or bust!"

"Please don't say _bust_!" Smith wailed, lifting his hands theatrically. "There's been FAR too much of that on this trip."

* * * *

Meanwhile, on Earth, hours had passed, but the Johnson Space Center was alive with activity. Traffic choked the entry gates as recalled employees headed in to work at five in the morning, fighting with news media vans that weaved in and out of lanes, trying to get ahead. Several of these vans had given up, mostly the local radio and television stations who settled for setting up operations on the shoulders of the roads, beginning their morning broadcasts with the incredible news of the return of the Jupiter 2 and the Robinson family. CNN, Fox News, and CNBC, reacting faster, had already made it through the gates and were presently erecting their transmission towers. Television journalists were adjusting microphones and brushing off suits to bring the news to the newly waking country.

Similarly, at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, where dawn had just occurred, hordes of personnel were fanning out all over the complex, conducting preparations for the recovery of an emergency spacecraft. Sweeps were being accomplished to clear any debris from the 15,000 foot long space shuttle runway. The Jupiter 2, of course, would not need a runway to land on, but it was the most likely location to focus emergency equipment and activities. To that end, fire crews were suiting up, and heavy crash equipment was already rolling, belching black diesel smoke and roaring along as they made ponderously for various potential landing sites around the complex. All the great doors of the enormous Vehicle Assembly Building were wide open, admitting the bright morning sun and illuminating scores of people running hither and yon across the cavernous bay, intent on their errands and tasks.

The entire infrastructure of NASA had been stung into frenzied action with the knowledge of the incoming vessel, and it could not be more obvious than in the Flight Control Room in Houston. All consoles were manned, and there was the loud hubbub of nearly fifty people talking, running checklists, powering up equipment, and in a thousand ways bringing the complex alive from its previous dormant state. Phones were ringing constantly, there was a constant flow of people in and out of the room, and controllers were scrambling about the room on their sundry errands, scattering papers and caroming into one another. The floor was already littered with paper coffee cups, weather faxes, and reams of computer printouts.

"Flight, Fido!" came a voice on the intercom.

A tall man, gray-haired but sporting a very military haircut, closely cropped at the top, and wearing a white shirt and red tie, reached for his comm button. He was leaning over his console that had "Flight Director" on the nameplate. He was Fred Jones, a veteran of flight management and a highly respected, no-nonsense controller, often compared favorably—both physically and temperamentally—to Gene Kranz, the heroic and larger-than-life Flight Director who had orchestrated the spectacular return of Apollo 13. While the action ebbed and flowed around him, he was clearly the rock amidst the fury of the hurricane. "Go, Fido."

The Flight Dynamics Officer, call sign "Fido," keyed his mike. He was Harry Schultz, another "old hand" in the Flight Control Room. Standing at his console, he was scanning a sheaf of printouts; a steaming cup of black coffee and a half eaten bagel breakfast sandwich stood within reach. "Here's what I have. The Meteorology Group says Kennedy weather is twenty-five thousand broken, ten miles, winds zero-nine-zero at five to ten knots. Thunderstorm activity is likely in the afternoon, but radar is clear, and is expected to remain so for three to four hours. I have other sites, including White Sands and Edwards, and their weather is good. Darwin and Amberly in Australia are ready if necessary. Dyess Air Force Base is on standby. Other sites have yet to report in, but I say go with Kennedy and we'll add additional sites as they check in. Nassau is ready in case of underburn or ditching."

"Copy, Fido. Capcom!" Flight barked.

"Go, Flight," Crash responded from his console.

"Tell Jupiter we're recommending Kennedy."

"Roger, Flight. I'll relay."

Jones pressed on. "Fido! I need the trajectory information. Do we have the flight path curve yet?"  
"Working on it, Flight. Should have it for you from Guidance in about fifteen minutes. The download from the Jupiter is taking longer than expected."

"Guidance, Flight! What's the status on Jupiter's telemetry?"

"Slow going, Flight. The Jupiter's old-style modems are taking a long time to feed data. We can take it only as fast as they can give it."

"Flight, Booster!" came another voice.

"Go, Booster."

"I have data on their propulsion. We can confirm fuel is at dangerous level, and they're still using that unstable deutronium stuff! Unbelievable. I'm surprised they haven't blown up yet!"

"Keep it professional, Booster," Jones growled warningly, glancing over at the large glass window behind which the entire press corps was packed in like sardines. "Can they make Kennedy?"

"Looks like it, but just barely. If they overshoot Kennedy for any reason, they have nothing left for points further west. This is going to be close. I'd advise a power-off reentry to reserve engine power for controlled landing."

"Ee-Comm, Flight! Any problems with environmental?"

EECOM, or the Emergency, Environmental, and Consumables Management controller, spit out the pencil he was furiously chewing on and toggled his intercom switch. "Negative, Flight. The ship is sound, no indications of any life support problems. Will monitor and let you know of any change."

"Thanks, Tom, keep on it." Jones straightened, towering over his console. He looked around the room and pulled the microphone away from his lips. "All right people," he boomed, his powerful voice echoing clearly about the enormous room. Everyone stopped what they were doing and swiveled expectantly in his direction. A hush descended over the Flight Control Room, punctuated only by the continued ringing of phones. Jones scanned his command, and then continued. "In fifteen minutes, I am going to do a poll for reentry and landing. We don't have the luxury of time here, so give it your best shot and don't waste my time with pissant stuff. Don West is in the driver's seat up there, but I want full support for his landing, and it looks like Kennedy is gonna be the first choice." He paused, glaring meaningfully about. "We will get this ship down safely. Make it happen, people!"

The Flight Control Room exploded into action.

* * * *

"Braking thrusters, now!" West called.

The Jupiter vibrated to its secondary thrusters.

"Good deceleration," John confirmed. "Still a little above the curve but coming down." He cast a look behind him. "Everyone ready?"

The family had already taken their positions in their acceleration couches behind him and all were strapped in tightly. John received a number of "thumb's ups" and excited waves, along with a chorus of "Yeahs!"

Outside the viewport, the flattened rim of the Earth occupied the lower half of the window, as if the Jupiter was sailing in over the top of the world. The blackness of space was above it, and only the brightest stars were visible as the automatic filters dimmed the reflected glare from the planet below. The picture seemed stable and serene, but everyone on board knew they were rushing into an atmospheric inferno at unimaginable speed.

"Jupiter, this is Houston," came Crash's voice from the radio. "Propulsion shows you're exceeding the expected fuel burn. Can you throttle back?"

"Negative," Don replied, rapidly scanning gages. "We're not decelerating enough as it is."

Another voice cut in. "Jupiter, this is Fido. Save your fuel. Throttle back and use atmospheric braking."

"I'm not sure that'll be enough," Don answered doubtfully. "And I can't vouch for the integrity of our lower hull after all these years. It may not withstand the heat of that kind of re-entry."

"Understand. We can't confirm either, but what telemetry we do have indicates the hull is sound and can take reentry heat, as long as you keep the lower hull section towards the worst of the ionization. Computer modeling gives you a seventy-two percent chance of success, depending on manual flight capabilities in controlling your angle of reentry."

"That guy sounds like the Robot," Don muttered, then glanced at the Robot at the navigation station. "No offense!"

The bubble top rose marginally. "None taken."

"I think he's saying it depends on how well you can fly," Professor Robinson commented dryly, casting a sidelong glance at the pilot.

"Ha!" West guffawed indignantly. "Only a seventy-two percent chance? What do computers know? Jeez, I haven't killed us yet."

"It's not like you haven't tried, you overbearing space jockey!" Dr. Smith called loudly from the back. "However, might I exhort you that this is _not_ the time to break your record!"

"He thinks I'm the greatest," West boasted impishly to John, his eyes downcast with exaggerated humility, and then he keyed his mike. "All right, Houston, I agree with your assessment. Am throttling back. We're going to be coming in hot. Adjusting re-entry angle for manual power-off glide."

"Copy, Jupiter. Atmospheric contact in forty two seconds. We may be out of touch when you enter the ionization area, but it depends on your reentry position and how your saucer-shaped hull interacts with the atmosphere."

"I'll do my best," West affirmed, flexing his grip on the control stick while ensuring the thrust levers were still at the idle stop, where they had been for the entire braking maneuver. The vessel was still burning through deutronium, but not nearly at the previous rate.

"Once you're through the ionization, you should be able to re-engage the main engine for landing, but you'll have to time it carefully. Kennedy is standing by for your arrival. Backup is Nassau, and the aircraft carrier Roosevelt is steaming hard for the waters east of the Cape in case of a water landing. Fighter escort is scrambling out of Jacksonville to intercept."

Impressed, Don nodded appreciatively. "Copy, Houston."

"Anything else we can do for you, Jupiter?"

"No, thanks, Houston, you've been great. We'll take it from here. See you guys on the ground."

"Good luck, Jupiter. We'll continue monitoring the frequency and look forward to your next call. Houston, out."

Judy glanced at Maureen. "I've never thought about that before. Can Don land this ship in the ocean if he has to?"

Maureen opened her mouth to respond, but Don overheard and said, "Yes, Judy, I've been trained in ditching procedures for the Jupiter, but that's not going to happen. Everyone hang on back there, it'll likely get rough once we hit the atmosphere. Gravity stabilizers are on low to conserve power, so expect a lot of bumps…"

As if on cue, the ship suddenly gave a jolt, as if they had just impacted something, then the ride smoothed out again.

"…like that!"

"Here it comes!" Will whooped excitedly, looking like he was getting ready for the roller coaster ride of his life.

"I'm securing the viewport," John announced, reaching for a switch. The reinforced panels covering the main viewport slid from the left and right, meeting in the middle, slowly cutting out view of the Earth. The blue glow was extinguished, leaving only the familiar internal lights illuminating the flight deck, and an odd sense of isolation from the realities of the environment outside the ship.

The ship coasted along, eerily quiet with the engine pulled back to idle. The kids were grinning in anticipation. Maureen appeared concerned but steady. Dr. Smith was pale and clutching his armrests tightly. The Robot was still at the navigation panel, sturdily monitoring navigation and occasionally swiveling to observe the family. Don's hand on the control stick was moving almost imperceptibly as he watched a flight director display on the helm.

Another lurch; the ship bucked.

"We are entering the upper fringes of the ozone layer of the atmosphere," the Robot reported as a steady rumbling vibration began. "Skin temperature is increasing. One thousand degrees Fahrenheit and increasing rapidly. There is uneven heating beginning on the forward hull. Suggest raising the angle of attack decimal zero-two percent of level to compensate for the increasing drag. You must distribute more of the heating onto the lower hull."

"Easy for you to say," Don said, checking his gages and easing back on the stick. "But, I see it. How's that look?"

"Within acceptable parameters." The Robot's bubble head extended, and his visual sensors pivoted towards West. "Or, should I say: looks good?"

"Roger that," Don laughed. "That's how you say it. Sing out if the heating becomes uneven again." Don flexed his fingers on the control stick again and checked the thrust lever still in the full back position. "Engine's confirmed at idle. It's all about gravity and orbital dynamics now, boys, just like in the old days of Mercury and John Glenn!"

"Major," John said, casting another sideways glance at the pilot, "I do believe you're enjoying this."

"Whatever gave you _that_ idea?"

"The ear-to-ear grin is a dead giveaway."

"Don't say '_dead'_!" Dr. Smith yelped from the back.

"It's okay, Dr. Smith," Will said comfortingly. "We'll be on Earth in no time!"

Smith glanced over at Will, still panicky, but he gave the youngster a forced smile. "Yes, you are quite right, young man. Earth! I cannot wait for this prolonged nightmare to finally be over! Oh, dear!" This last was wrung out of him as the ship bounced violently. "With my delicate condition, I am ill-suited for space travel, as you well know…"

"As you have _constantly_ reminded us," Don observed under his breath to himself, moving the control stick carefully and channeling his concentration ferociously onto the attitude indicator. "Here we go, then…"

* * * *

"I've got a visual contact, ten o'clock high, descending fast. It's gotta be him!"

Captain Jake Maddox was squinting through his visor, trying to see through the glare from the early morning sun. He was flying at 40,000 feet over the Atlantic in his F-22 Raptor, climbing towards a rendezvous with a bright moving point of light that was hurtling towards him. Jake was one of the "Hat in the Ring" pilots from the 94th Fighter Squadron, Langley Air Force Base, Virginia. He and his wingman had been scrambled out of Jacksonville Naval Air Station by Air Combat Command and the North American Aerospace Command when word came through that the Jupiter 2 spacecraft was already in the middle of reentry. The entire squadron had been stationed there previously as part of joint exercises with the U.S. Navy, so when NORAD called, ACC responded with the closest assets it had available to help in the recovery.

"I think you're right," came the reply from his wingman, First Lieutenant Gary Locke. His voice was slightly distorted by the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. He was watching a rapidly lengthening white contrail high overhead in the Florida morning sky. "Can't be an airliner that high above us. Why is he making a contrail? He's not a jet or a rocket."

"Dunno…not sure that's a good sign. Go tactical," Maddox called. "Give me lots of room and we'll do our best to rejoin. NORAD says he's heading for Kennedy."

"Roger."

"Giant Killer, Giant Killer, this is Interceptor 1," Maddox called the NORAD controllers responsible for the airspace off the east coast of Florida.

"Interceptor 1, Giant Killer, go ahead."

"Giant Killer, Interceptor 1. We have visual on a bogey, twenty-five miles and closing, twelve o'clock, appears to be Angels sixty. Can you confirm?"

"Interceptor 1, that's him, sixty thousand feet and descending rapidly. You are cleared to intercept. I am uplinking the frequency JSC is using. Houston has no contact so far…maybe you'll have better luck. Try contacting the Jupiter on that freq."

"Roger, Giant Killer. We'll monitor you on two-forty-three-oh on our secondary radio."

* * * *

"I don't know," Don was yelling over the klaxon. "Kill that horn!"

John slapped a button, and the siren went silent. "Coolant loss?"

"Yeah. We must have blown a hose or panel or something during that re-entry, I can't tell. Goddamit!" He exploded suddenly, sweat beading on his forehead, and began yelling with pent-up anger. "Can't this goddamn ship hold together for a few more goddamn minutes? Christ!"

John focused on a nearby gage and said nothing.

Don took a deep breath to get a grip on his surging emotions. When he spoke again, it was in a much more controlled tone. "Sorry, everyone. What's the core temperature?"

"Core temperature is increasing towards safety limits," the Robot reported from his station. "Coolant loss is confirmed, possibly in the area of the feedback conduits, lower panel twenty-one towards the front of the hull."

"Figures," Don said. "That panel is right where the heat would have been the worst."

"Anything you can do?" John inquired carefully of Don, realizing his friend was still pretty strung out.

"Not here," Don answered. "Not now. On the ground, maybe. We'll just have to go with it for now." He glanced upwards, taking in the vessel as a whole, then muttered under his breath, "Come on, baby, almost home. Hold together just a little longer, the family's counting on you…"

* * * *

"Good morning and welcome back to the Today Show! Things are happening fast as we try to keep pace with the incredible events we have been waking to this morning. Unless you are just joining us, you already know that NASA has announced that the long lost space family Robinson, who vanished under poorly explained circumstances over fifteen years ago, is now about to land back on Earth. Unexpected contact was made with the saucer-shaped Jupiter 2 spacecraft early this morning by controllers at the Johnson Space Center. The vessel, long believed to be lost, is at this moment in its final re-entry into Earth atmosphere. There is no word on the condition or health of the crew. I am talking with Amy Irving, on site at the Johnson Space Center, in Houston. Amy? What's the latest?"

"Thank you, Matt. I'm here in the press area of the Flight Control Room at the Johnson Space Center talking with Ted Marcus, the Public Affairs Officer, also known as 'The Voice of Mission Control.' Ted, I know it's busy in there. What can you tell us?"

"Well Amy, as you know, early this morning, the Jupiter 2 made contact with us here in the Flight Control Room. Immediately, events were set in motion to engage resources of NASA, NORAD, the U.S. Navy, the Air Force, and the Johnson Space Center to coordinate recovery efforts. At this time, we understand that the ship is extremely low on fuel and had to execute a power-off re-entry, much as the space shuttles used to do. They are attempting a landing on runway 33 at the Kennedy Space Center, and all coordinating agencies are fully staffed to provide whatever assistance they might need."

"Have they given you any idea where they have been all these years?"

"No, Amy, there has been little time to chat. Because of its low fuel state, the Jupiter 2 is coming in immediately, and we have been totally dedicated to the successful recovery of the spacecraft. All other questions have been shelved until we get the crew safely on the ground."

"But, we understand Professor John Robinson, the mission commander, has stated that all members of his team are accounted for on the vessel."

"That is correct. All seven members of the Robinson expedition are on board and healthy, as far as we know."

"Mr. Marcus, you are saying they are low on fuel. How critical is it?"

"The fuel state is driving all our decisions at this time, but the ship has sufficient fuel to land safely at Kennedy."

"How long will it be before touchdown?"

"The Jupiter is minutes away from touching down. F-22's from Langley Air Force Base are providing escort, and the U.S. Navy's aircraft carrier, the U.S.S. Roosevelt, has entered the waters off the coast of Florida in case of a ditching. Coast Guard helicopters and two C-130 aircraft are already in the air as well. Basically, the Jupiter is running the whole show, and the ship's fate is in the hands of its pilot, Air Force Major Don West."

"Can you tell our viewers…"

"Sorry, Amy, as you can probably imagine, things are happening with lightning speed here. I see I am needed back in the control room. We'll be issuing press releases shortly."

"Thank you, Mr. Marcus. As you heard, Matt, we are minutes away from concluding a fifteen-year adventure, and the outcome may be severely in doubt. We will know very soon. That's all I have here, Matt. Back to you."

"Thanks, Amy. We now have word that the Jupiter 2 is in sight from the Cape. We now go to our live cameras there…"

* * * *

"Skin temperature is back to normal limits," the Robot announced. "However, coolant levels are continuing to drop rapidly."

"Opening the viewport," Professor Robinson said. "Let's see where we are."

The viewport slid open, drawing "ohh's" and "ahh's" from everyone. The ship was descending towards a high cirrus layer, with achingly blue sky above and a sapphire ocean showing through the tenuous layers. At the moment they opened the viewport, the ship shot through the thin layer as if they were in an elevator, and the vast expanse of the western Atlantic opened up before them. With the morning sun at their backs as they came hurtling down from the east, they could see in the far distance a hazy line of darker blue-gray.

"Is that what I think it is?" Maureen exclaimed, straightening in her seat. "That line out there…?"

"It's land!" Judy broke in excitedly. "It must be the United States!"

"Look at that!" Will cried at the same time.

"Oh, dear!" Smith blurted. "Oh what joy! The sky, the sun, the sea. America!"

"That's right!" Don grinned, pointing, while wiping away the sweat that trickled down his forehead. "That's the east coast of Florida!"

"The United States!" Penny breathed. "I never thought I would see it again!"

A loud chorus of yells and cheers went up. Penny and Will began poking one another exuberantly, Judy and Maureen leaned towards one another and hugged as much as their acceleration restraints would allow, and there were tears coursing down Dr. Smith's cheeks as he babbled incoherently, shaking his head and smiling rapturously. The Professor reached a hand up and laid it firmly on Don's shoulder; neither man could take his eyes from the view ahead.

"Let's not be all congratulatory yet," Don broke in gruffly, but still grinning. "We still have to put this beast safely on the ground."

A beeping sound came from the radar panel. "Sensors are showing two airborne targets, ahead and below, closing rapidly," the Robot stated. "Twenty miles."

"Looking," Don said, squinting through the morning sun. "Must be our reception committee."

The radio crackled suddenly to life. "Jupiter 2, Jupiter 2, this is Interceptor 1, come in please."

John keyed the radio. "Interceptor 1, this is the Jupiter 2. Good to see you!"

"It's good to see _you_, Jupiter. The airspace corridor ahead is clear of traffic, weather is good. We're turning to lead you in. We're showing you with a hell of an overtake..."

Don grabbed the microphone. "I'm not sure if any rejoin is possible, but we're glad you're there. I'll be slowing down here fairly soon."

"Roger, Jupiter. Let us know if we can assist. By the way, you're trailing what appears to be either a contrail or smoke or something. I'm not sure what it is, or if it's some byproduct of your re-entry…"

"No, it's not normal for us," Don said. "We're losing coolant to our reactor…"

"Break, break, Jupiter 2, this is Giant Killer."

"Go ahead, Giant Killer," Don called, recognizing the military call sign from his days in the Air Force.

"Jupiter, this is NORAD control, call sign Giant Killer. We will be passing you over to the Kennedy sector control momentarily, same frequency. We have you on radar. You appear high and fast; Houston confirms. State intentions."

Don laughed in spite of his tension. "Giant Killer, this is Jupiter. We're gonna _land_, boys!"

The controller's voice remained coolly professional. "Copy, Jupiter. Suggest you correct trajectory. Current course has you predicted to overshoot Kennedy by a wide margin."

"Controllers," West grumbled to himself, flipping some switches. "They feel they have to fly your ship for you." He keyed the mike, striving to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "Copy, Giant Killer. We're working on it."

"How high are we?" John asked, scanning his panel.

"Pretty high," Don answered, nodding. "Giant Killer is right on the money. And, we're fast." He keyed his microphone. "Interceptor 1, this is the Jupiter. I'm commencing some S-turns to help kill some energy here. Stay out of the way down there."

"Copy, Jupiter. You are clear to maneuver. Miami and Jacksonville Center have re-routed all civilian traffic to remain outside 50 nautical miles from your landing corridor. It's all yours."

"Thanks, Interceptor. Here we go."

* * * *

"Now we head over to our CNN reporter on the ground in Melbourne, Florida, Greg Fox. Greg?"

"Hello, again, Marcia. Well, this entire area has come to a screaming halt with the news of the Jupiter arrival! People are flocking to the beaches or simply stopping in the middle of the streets, climbing on top of their vehicles, hoping for a sighting of this near mythical spaceship. Titusville, Merritt Island, and Melbourne are all reporting traffic snarls at major intersections. Bennet, Pineda, and Cocoa Beach Causeway bridge traffic is at a complete standstill, and there are reports of people completely abandoning their vehicles and walking or running towards the beaches. Police are trying to clear the NASA Parkway West Bridge to allow NASA personnel to get through to work, as they have been desperately trying to do since early this morning. Major arteries like A1A along the coast and US 1 are similarly closed with stopped vehicles, and police are asking people not to leave their homes if they have not already ventured onto the roadways.

We have reports of groups of people who have gathered on the roadways, sidewalks, and city parks, their heads bowed in prayer for the safe recovery of the Robinson family. Crowds of employees or early morning shoppers have abandoned their errands and schedules to climb to the rooftops of buildings large and small and are scanning the clear morning skies, hoping for a glimpse of the rapidly approaching starship. Recreational boats are putting out, jockeying for position along the Intracoastal Waterway or in the prohibited waters of the Atlantic east of the Cape, this in spite of warnings from the Coast Guard and U.S. Navy to remain clear.

"At the Cape, we understand Kennedy Spaceport officials have pulled all the stops. A full range of support vehicles are racing towards the expected landing site, somewhere on the old space shuttle landing strip, designated runway 33. Now, of course, the Jupiter has no wheels, so they won't need the entire runway, but exactly where the ship will put down is uncertain. Air traffic control authorities are in constant communication with the descending ship, and we are told landing could only be minutes away.

"Speculation about the condition of the crew is rampant, but Johnson Space Center and other NASA sources are either keeping the information out of the public forum for reasons unknown, or they simply don't yet know. They have stated everyone is accounted for on board. However, other unnamed sources at the space agency have hinted that only two or three of the original family survived, while others claim the ship is under the automatic control of the Jupiter's B-9 Environmental Robot, and that no one survived. Information flow at this stage is very chaotic…"

Two booms are heard in the background.

"Greg, what was that?"

"Marcia…we're trying to determine…wait a moment. Yes…I believe what we just heard was the sonic boom of the Jupiter slowing below supersonic speed."

"Thanks, Greg, that's what we're confirming here, but we may also have visual sighting of the ship. If you viewers at home will look in the center of your screens, you see what appears to be a bright dot, behind which is a long, erratic contrail. This might be the escorting fighters, or the Jupiter itself. We're going to keep our cameras trained here until we can make out more details…"

* * * *

"We _have_ to use the engine," Don said, banking the ship steeply to the right again. "If we don't get this descent under some kind of control, we're either going to overshoot into the Gulf or land in some central Florida shopping mall parking lot and _really_ surprise some folks."

"The Jupiter was never designed as a glider," John agreed, "so do what you think you need to do."

"Right. Throttling up. Tell Kennedy we're bringing the engine up for a powered vertical descent."

"Okay."

"Warning!" the Robot called. "Coolant loss is critical! Engine core temperature is rising beyond design safety limits. Engine response may be uncertain."

"Got it…" Don called through clenched teeth as he advanced the thrust lever. "Don't have much of a choice here…"

Outside, the coast of Florida was visible in detail. The Cape jutted out into the Atlantic, and several ancient launch pads could be seen that dated back to the early days of space travel. The huge black and white Vehicle Assembly Building could be seen dominating the center, with spokes that were roads radiating out towards the various launch facilities.

"There it is!" John cried, pointing towards the right. "There's the runway!"

"I see it," Don said, adjusting engine power to a loud thrumming. "Decelerating now."

"There are the fighters!" Will cried, pointing. "We have an escort! So that's what an F-22 looks like!"

The banking fighters flashed by as the Jupiter plunged towards the Earth.

West glanced out the window as they passed. "Nothing much for them to do but watch the show."

The klaxon sounded again, startlingly loud.

Don hammered a button, and the warning was silenced. "Now what?" he asked testily. "The coolant again?"

"What was that?" Dr. Smith cried. "What was that?"

"Low fuel warning this time," the Robot reported. "Fuel levels critical. Engine is not developing steady thrust. Coolant reservoirs are empty. Core temperature is elevated beyond gage reading. Reactor criticality is imminent."

"All right," Don muttered through gritted teeth. "This is gonna be close. John, if we lose power, I'm turning back into the Atlantic to ditch. Tell Interceptor that's our backup."

"Agreed. I'll tell him."

"Ditch?" Dr. Smith cried. "We're going to blow up before we can ditch!"

The runway grew larger.

* * * *

"…through our enhanced zoom lens, you can see all the details of the ship. It looks exactly like it did at launch fifteen years ago."

"Yes, Marcia, no sign of age or damage from this distance. The ship looks just like its pictures in our archives…"

"Kennedy is telling us this is their final approach. The ship apparently has no fuel for an aborted landing, so this is it. We're going to stop broadcasting. Let's all watch, and pray…"

* * * *

"It's in West's hands now," Fred Jones announced. "We've done all we can." His eyes were fastened on the visual feed coming in from Kennedy, as was every single other person in the Flight Control Room. Everyone was on their feet, watching. "Here we go, then."

* * * *

The rotating propulsion pod under the Jupiter was emitting an unusual, intensely bright glow. The patterned lights were merging into one steady band that fluctuated and pulsed. Small red static discharges were visible in the morning sunlight. Smoke was pouring from panels underneath the ship, and the Jupiter's overworked engine was screaming like an animal in its death throes. The ship wobbled unsteadily as Don fought to control the descent of the vessel as it hurtled towards the ground in a seemingly uncontrolled plunge.

* * * *

"There's the runway marker!" John called over the noise.

"I see it!" Don yelled above the unsteady whine of the engine, ignoring all the warning lights that were flashing on the helm. A panel on one of the side bulkheads erupted in sparks and smoke. "I'm gonna put her down right on the numbers."

"Lots of vehicles at that end of the field," John observed. "Fire trucks, ambulances, police, others I can't identify. Don't hit 'em."

"That _would_ be poor form," Don agreed.

"Just get us down safely, you addlepated astronaut, and quickly!" Smith called from the back, waving away the wisps of smoke that had started drifting about the cabin. "We're falling apart!" Another panel exploded, showering the deck with sparks, and the ship lurched violently to the left.

"Whoa…" Don began.

"You are cleared to land, Jupiter," a voice boomed from the speakers. "Interceptor flight is clearing to your left. You're putting out a lot of smoke…seems to be coming from your drive…"

"Got it, Interceptor," John transmitted.

"All right. We're out, and good luck."

"Call out the altitudes!" Don commanded.

"Five thousand," John counted. "Four thousand. Three thousand. Radar altimeter is ringing in."

"We're committed," Don observed. "Passing the coastline…ditching no longer an option. Lower landing struts."

The Professor reached over for the landing handle and pushed it down. "Struts lowering. Good hydraulics. There's three green and locked, shocks are pressurized."

"At least those things are still working right," Don observed raspily.

The Jupiter vibrated deafeningly to its engine as Don brought the ship directly over the "33" marked on the runway. "We're locked on to the touchdown zone," he called out, flicking a switch on the control stick.

"That's a good lock," John confirmed, checking his gages. "You're right over the numbers. Forward velocity is zero, descending at 2,000 feet per minute. Engine readings…" he began, staring at several gages. He paused, aghast at what he saw. But, when he turned back to Don, he spoke in a controlled monotone. "…are fine. One thousand to go."

"Attention," the Robot called. "All deutronium fuel has been converted."

Penny looked at Maureen, her eyes huge. "Converted? What did he mean by that? We're out of fuel? What are we running on?"

Maureen swiveled slowly to gaze at her daughter. "I don't know, dear. I just don't know."

"It's the ship!" Will whispered in an eerie, faraway tone that carried nonetheless, causing Penny and Maureen to stare curiously at him. He was gazing around, as if taking in the entire vessel.

Judy looked over at him also, goose bumps rising on her arms. "What did you say?"

Will's eyes were unfocused, but there was a half smile of conviction on his face. "She's trying to save us. The Jupiter is trying to save us!"

"What…?" Penny began, but stopped when Maureen laid a hand on her arm. Judy reached over and took Maureen's other hand, and they fatalistically turned back to watch John and Don laboring at the helm.

Smith's face was contorted with fear, his fingers digging into the cushioned armrests of his acceleration couch. He was unable to say anything.

"Five hundred feet, vertical velocity six hundred feet per minute and slowing," John reported. "Engine is still producing thrust. I don't know how, but you better put us down quick. The reactor must be consuming itself with no deutronium to burn."

West was easing the stick back, at the same time reducing engine power. "Give it to me in hundreds."

"Four hundred. Three hundred. Ground proximity warning; I'm cancelling the light. Two hundred. One hundred. Kicking up some dust. There's fifty feet. You're steady on the mark. Ship attitude is zero degrees and level. Forty feet. Thirty. Twenty. Ground effect sensors have engaged."

"Reducing engine power," Don said. "I'm letting her settle."

"Ten feet."

* * * *

In the Flight Control Room in Houston, fifty or more people were on their feet, watching the large, over-sized, flat-panel television screens on the front wall. It showed the flying-saucer-like Jupiter 2, wreathed in smoke and dust, hovering mere feet over the runway at Kennedy. The steady light from the propulsion pod was excruciatingly intense, and the red static charges were contacting the ground around the landing struts, as if the ship were sending out feelers, testing the ground. As if alarmed by the raw energy coruscating wildly around the vessel, emergency trucks had pulled back to a safer distance, giving the Jupiter more room. There was no sound over the television feed, but every one of the controllers and engineers could hear in their own minds the thunder of the mighty engine. The Jupiter's singular crystalline whine was all too familiar to the "old heads" who had been there fifteen years ago at the start of the adventure, and whose denouement they were mutely witnessing.

The room was like a diorama of manikins, frozen in time. Not a single figure moved from the tense attitudes they had adopted in those final moments. Hardly anyone blinked, hardly anyone breathed. Hands were poised over telephones, earphones were being cupped over ears, eyes were wide and staring at the monitor. Several had hands clasped before them in attitudes of unconscious supplication. Figures in the press viewing gallery, a glassed alcove off to one side of the Flight Control Room, were either standing ramrod straight or sitting, leaning forward, arms on knees, hands gripping armrests.

There was a large cluster of people around Fred Jones at the "Flight" console, as if the senior controllers had gathered around their boss in unstated support. He towered above them all, his intense blue eyes fastened with fierce concentration on the image on the screen. It seemed as if he was guiding the vessel down the last few feet by the powerful force of his will alone. He appeared completely unaware of the mechanical whirring of automatic video cameras that were recording this historic moment…

* * * *

There was a single thump.

The family looked around, as if shocked.

"Touchdown!" John proclaimed. "We're on the ground!"

* * * *

An entire forest of arms flew into the air in the Flight Control Room as fifty people exploded in cheers and swirling bodies. Backs were slapped, hands were clasped firmly between controllers, hugs were exchanged, and papers went flying. Public relations experts lunged for telephones, computers, and faxes. Prohibited flashbulbs were lighting the control room like strobes, but no one paid them any heed. The Jupiter 2 had landed!

Only Fred Jones remained standing as the celebrations swirled around him, still as a rock amid the crashing waves of an ocean. His face was still set grimly as he keyed his mike.

"Kennedy," he transmitted loudly enough to catch the attention of those closest to him. "Get those people out of there…now!"

* * * *

Don pulled the engine thrust lever smoothly to idle, and the roar of the engine reduced, then sputtered and changed to an unhealthy chattering and grinding. "Robot! Secure the core! I'm performing an emergency shutdown!"

"Acknowledged. Securing the core…"

"Cancelling gravity compensators," John announced, busy at his panel, then the all-too-familiar klaxon began sounding, again. "Fire indications in the core!"

"Confirmed!" the Robot called. "I am isolating the core…"

"Jupiter, this is the Kennedy fire marshal!" the radio interrupted him. "You're on fire! Recommend immediate ground evac!"

"Okay, chief," John called. "Which way looks best?"

"We're pulling an air stair up to your upper airlock door right now. It would appear to be the safest egress route. Do NOT exit via landing strut hatch!"

"Roger, chief," John called.

"Checklist! Boost pumps off," Don said, methodically moving through the emergency shutdown procedure. "Closing fuel valves. Pressurization?"

"Ambient," John answered.

"Gravity?"

"Off."

"Hydraulics?"

"Off."

"Generators?"

"Off." There was a loud "clunk," and the deck lights went out. All the background electronic noise from the ship was immediately silenced; most of the lights on the helm extinguished. However, there were still disturbing noises coming from below deck: sputtering, hissing, grinding, rattling. An ominous muted roaring could be heard.

"Engine fire push buttons?" West continued.

"Pushed."

"Fire agents?"

"One, two, and three discharging, bottles emptying."

"Batteries?"

"Manual off." The remainder of remaining indicator lights on panels throughout the ship went out.

Don looked up. "That's it! Everyone out! Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"

* * * *

The Jupiter, wreathed in smoke and flames, was at the center of a rapidly converging circle of charging vehicles. Huge crash trucks with flashing lights and roaring diesel engines were quickly closing on the stricken vessel from all directions, their nozzles already belching torrents of water and foam. As they stopped, doors flew open, discharging an army of firefighters clad head to toe in pressurized silver suits, liquid oxygen packs on their backs.

Two HH-60 Black Hawk helicopters from Patrick Air Force Base's 920th Rescue Group were touching down nearby on the runway in a great thunder of rotor wash and noise. They were hardly down before the doors were flung open, and Air Force pararescue jumpmen--or "PJ's", as they were called--were tumbling out, hauling crates of medical equipment and other supplies, ready to treat a full range of possible injuries. In the meantime, the Reserve chopper pilots kept the rotors turning, ready for a rapid evacuation of any injured to alerted hospitals in Melbourne and Titusville, or even as far away as Daytona.

Meanwhile, another tank-like tracked vehicle clattered right up to the Jupiter, surging past the other stopped crash vehicles, belching clouds of diesel. As it reached the side of the vessel, it lowered what appeared to be a cannon mounted at the front and shot a projectile trailing a hose directly into the glowing, flaming propulsion pod. With a loud report, the projectile penetrated one of the panels on the side of the pod and lodged deep into the core, and the trailing hose immediately stiffened as the tanker began pumping coolant and extinguishant through the hose directly into the core of the engine.

At the same time, a Ford truck with an airliner type passenger staircase roared up to the airlock door at the side of the Jupiter and came screeching to a halt. The driver lowered four hydraulically operated struts onto the ground to stabilize the vehicle, then operated levers to extend the staircase up to the main airlock door. The padded forward part of the staircase thumped against the lower threshold of the airlock door just as the door began to slide open.

Penny was the first one out, stepping uncertainly onto the upraised platform, squinting in the morning sunshine and cautiously eyeing the pandemonium of activity around her. She jumped and glared angrily behind her as Will shoved against her back, yelling at her to keep moving. As the two children flew down the stairs towards a number of firefighters who stood waving furiously at them, Judy, Maureen, Dr. Smith, and Professor John Robinson emerged from the Jupiter and started down after them. The Robot rolled out onto the platform.

"Stay there!" John commanded to the Robot, knowing the machine was unable to negotiate the stairs. "We'll get them to pull the stairs away from the ship and get you down later!"

"Understood," the Robot responded, locking his claws around a guardrail.

Dense smoke was still coming from underneath the spaceship. One silver-garbed fireman bounded up the stairs, grabbed Penny's hand, and escorted her down. Several others were racing towards the foot of the stairs, carrying extinguishers and portable breathing equipment.

Coughing and eyes tearing from the smoke, John stopped halfway down the stairs when he realized one member of his team was still missing. He looked back up to see Major West standing in the airlock, facing back towards the interior of the ship.

"Don!" he yelled over the braying sirens and roaring of the water cannons. "What the hell are you doing? Get out of there!"

Major Don West, lately pilot of the Jupiter 2, stood for a moment in the airlock doorway, staring back into his ship. Despite the bedlam and potential danger, he tarried at the threshold, his eyes sweeping around the main flight deck. To him, it felt wrong to leave without a backward glance, or a final word.

"You're one helluva ship," he whispered. The turmoil beneath him on the tarmac seemed to soften for a moment, as if he had entered a private space apart from the reality outside. He touched the bulkhead nearest him, caressingly. "You've saved us all. Thank you, old friend."

"Don!" John yelled, practically dancing with impatience, his temper flaring in the heat of the moment. He was on the verge of swarming up and carrying the pilot down by force. The rest of the family, surrounded by an army of firefighters, were already moving towards one of the nearby rescue vehicles.

Don turned and looked down the stairs at John glowering up at him. "Coming," he said conversationally, and calmly walked past the Robot, stepping unhurriedly down the stairs.

The two reached the base of the staircase where half a dozen firefighters had gathered, brandishing extinguishers, flashlights, axes, radiation detectors, infrared scanners, and other equipment. They were shuffling about impatiently in their bulky crash suits as they waited anxiously for Don and John to get out of the way. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, two of the firefighters took them under escort to where the rest of the family were gathered, while the others surged up the stairs, pounded past the Robot, and stormed headlong into the ship.

Will was gesticulating wildly as John and Don approached. "Dad, the Robot! We've got to get him down!"

"Just hold on, son," John said, waving back at the ship. "He's fine right there. They'll be moving the airstair once the crash crew comes back out."

Will gave in hesitantly. "Okay, I suppose."

"Everyone all right?" John asked, dubiously eyeing the hubbub of frenzied activity.

Each member of the family seemed to have a half dozen pararescuemen and emergency medical technicians buzzing around them. Blankets and water bottles had been provided, and everyone was getting thorough, if hurried, initial examinations. Stethoscopes were flying, tongue depressors were being thrust into open mouths, and any number of probes was being waved over the family as vitals were checked and fed into nearby wheeled computer equipment. There was a loud babble of several voices as the medical personnel asked the Robinsons questions about their health, weight, and nutrition, or simply offered congratulations and hearty welcomes back to Earth.

"Maybe we should move a little further away?" Don asked tentatively, glancing back at the still smoldering ship. The smoke was no longer billowing out of the propulsion pod, and there was now a continual flow of NASA personnel up and down the stairs. The Jupiter was completely hemmed in by at least a dozen vehicles, all with their emergency lights flashing and doors open. There were people in business suits, silver fire suits, military jumpsuits, and even scientists in their white lab coats. Distant sirens could be heard, and open radio frequencies from hand held receivers crackled loudly.

"Looks like they have it under control," John observed, watching the pandemonium with amused interest. "No one seems to be running away, yet. Maureen? How are you? Judy?"

Judy and Maureen were sitting side by side in the open rear doorway of the fire chief's truck, blankets around their shoulders and half empty water bottles in their hands. One EMT was taking Judy's pulse; another had a blood pressure cuff wrapped around Maureen's upper arm.

Maureen smiled in the morning sunlight, her blonde hair lifting in the gentle Florida morning breeze. "Couldn't be better. You?"

"Fine."

"Fine?" Dr. Smith broke in. He was seated next to Judy. "That's all you can say is, fine? We're alive! We're on Earth! It's so good to meet your acquaintance!" He enthusiastically pumped the hand of a nearby startled PJ, then turned and did the same with another rescue crewman. "We're actually on Earth! Never to leave again! Home! Fine hotels! Gourmet food! Beef, chicken, crepes, _real_ _omelets_…oh great day, great day! This nightmare is over! William, Penny!" he snapped, shrugging off a hovering med-tech and reaching out to the children who were standing nearby. "Help me up this instant!"

Will and Penny grabbed his outstretched hands and helped him to his feet, where he swayed with a loud groan. "Oh dear! The gravity is different. I feel all wobbly! That damned pilot has given me whiplash. I shall never be the same. Oh!" His eyes went wide with a sudden, wondrous thought. "We're on Earth! I can _sue_!" Grinning maniacally, he rounded on a startled Major West. "I'm going to find a competent lawyer, and entire army of attorneys, and sue you for endangerment, attempted murder, moral turpitude, and slander!" He whooped gleefully and stuck a finger in Don's chest. "You just wait!" Without lingering for a response, he spun about and began dancing with the children, beaming joyfully and humming something that sounded like a waltz.

Judy leaped to her feet, thinking she would have to restrain Don's volcanic and often physical temper, but she stopped in mid-step and stared wonderingly at the Major. He was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Don?" she asked, worried at the unexpected mirth.

He actually had to wipe away a tear. "It's okay. It's really good to see that old bastard so happy." He grabbed Judy. "Let him have his moment. Now, give me mine!" And he leaned down to roundly kiss the senior Robinson daughter, who wrapped her arms around his neck and gave it right back to him.

Smiling at their antics with maternal affection, Maureen got up and pushed her way past the crowding EMTs to where John stood watching the action around the Jupiter. Thirty or forty people were walking around the ship, taking readings with various instruments or talking in small groups. The Robot still stood patiently on the platform, but he was likewise at the center of three or four clipboard-wielding technicians who were examining him minutely. From this distance, they could see his speech panel lighting as he spoke with them, but they could hear nothing.

"Will they be able to save it?" she asked, circling his waist with her arm.

He reached over and placed an arm around her shoulder. "The ship? I think so."

The two of them silently regarded the Jupiter. Wisps of smoke and steam still came from underneath the vessel. The lower hull was blackened and cracked, and rays of soot crawled up the sides of the ship, dulling its finish. The propulsion pod underneath was unlit and silent. The hose from the crash truck was still embedded in one side, but it hung loosely, trailing on the ground, no longer stiffened with flowing coolant. The dome on top of the ship was opaque and yellowed, like an eye clouded by a cataract. Shadowy figures could be seen moving about through the main viewport, but in the unlit interior, details were murky. The Jupiter was even listing to one side; one of the landing struts had collapsed slightly, giving the entire ship a lopsided, drunken appearance. No sound came from the ship, other than an occasional hissing release of some gas.

Maureen sighed, causing John to glance down. He noted a tear rolling down her cheek as she stared at their ship, but he also saw how the warming sun was making the highlights of her hair glow.

"It was almost a living thing, wasn't it?" she said absently, as if speaking to herself.

"Come on, darling," he said, tightening his arm around her shoulder. "Let's take a stroll."

She smiled up at him. The tear was like a rare gem on her cheek. "Where to?"

He cocked his chin towards the edge of the runway, where green grass waved in the morning breeze and wildflowers gently nodded. "Over there."

"Our first walk on Earth in years?" she asked, following his gaze. She looked around. Smith was still cavorting with the children. Don and Judy were deep in conversation near one of the ambulances. For the moment, no one seemed to be paying the two senior Robinsons any attention at all. She looked towards the edge of the runway. "That would be delightful."

John turned and offered her his arm. She took it in both hands, and they glided quietly out of the crowd, looking into each other's eyes.

48


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note to My Loyal Readers: Well, the journey is over. I hope you enjoyed traveling across the cosmos with the Robinsons one more time! I have achieved my objective: that of returning the Robinsons to Earth. However, I know this won't be the last word: there are other writers out there already crafting new tales of Lost in Space, which I greatly anticipate! This last chapter, the Epilogue, is simply a short, quiet ending to a story of high adventure and not a little fun. The "cap", if you will. Thank you for sharing the journey with me; I will always be indebted to the wonderfully positive reviews you all have given me. The experience was uplifting, indeed! And now, for the last word…or, in the true spirit of all LIS episodes, perhaps not?

Lost in Space, The Return, Epilogue

"Now, for the final report this evening, something that has been on the news, in the tabloids, and in discussions around water coolers and over kitchen tables throughout the world. What of the Robinsons?"

The news anchor was standing in front of a dramatic artist's rendering of the Jupiter 2 in flight as if it were banking through towering cliffs of cumulus clouds, the sun glinting off the ship's curving, razor-sharp edges. Flashes and rays of light were coming from the propulsion module under the craft. Vague figures could be seen at the main viewport, standing in dramatic poses.

Holding a pen and a sheaf of papers, he continued.

"The stories on the already legendary mission of the Jupiter 2 and the space family Robinson have grown in these last several weeks following the landing of the family's vessel at Cape Kennedy. Everyone knows the story about the ship that became lost in space following a navigational system failure and encounter with a meteor storm. Not even fifteen years has dimmed the memories of that sad chapter in our space program, when congressional finger-pointing was rampant, conspiracy buffs were debating wild theories to explain the loss, and the promising organization, Alpha Control, fell in disgrace from its lofty heights as the preeminent agent of interstellar exploration management.

"Yet, while Earth-bound pundits debated, accused, and theorized, the Robinsons were alive and well, stubbornly surviving in frequently hostile and completely foreign worlds far from home. They encountered alien races, uncharted planets, monsters, cosmic storms, mechanical difficulties, food shortages, time warps, space pirates, alien zoo-keepers, artificial intelligences, and societies both far in advance of our civilization, as well as far more barbaric.

"And then came that incredible day two months ago, when the world awoke to the gripping news that the Robinsons had returned! We were relieved to discover that all members of the Robinson family, including both their pilot and physician, were safe, healthy, and unharmed, even though they had only aged three years, while Earth had seen fifteen summers! Scientists and philosophers are still discussing the effects of the trip, including the strange time compression that allowed the family to age far slower than life on Earth due to their near light-speed wanderings across the universe.

"From the technical angle, NASA experts have been poring over every inch of the fabled Jupiter 2 spacecraft, which survived a near catastrophic landing and fire September 13th at Cape Kennedy. Scientists and technicians have been examining the vessel in great detail, both to extract a record of its travels as well as lessons to be included in the next generation of spacecraft, whether destined for the planets or to attempt another passage to the stars. There are even plans to house the vessel in its entirety in the Smithsonian Institute in Washington as part of a permanent exhibit.

"And, where are they now? The Robinsons, following their week-long debriefing by NASA and other federal agencies, are still at an undisclosed location in Hawaii. They are undoubtedly enjoying their beach time and soaking up that Pacific sun at some unnamed resort that has been a closely guarded secret to protect the family's privacy.

"U.S. Air Force Major Don West, the pilot of the Jupiter, had announced his engagement to Miss Judy Robinson shortly following their landing on Earth, and that appeared to be no surprise to anyone in the family.

"Dr. Zachary Smith, the rather enigmatic unwilling member of the crew, was last reported to be vacationing somewhere in Europe, but his exact whereabouts are uncertain.

"The final member of the Robinson party, the B-9 Environmental Control Robot, is continuing to provide scientists with vast storehouses of data and information from the voyage. This robot had developed an incredibly human artificial intelligence over the course of the expedition that is the object of continuing intense discussion and study by computer experts from elementary school students to top engineers at MIT.

"What is next? Should humanity make another attempt to the stars? And, why not? The universe evidently is teeming with life and adventure, while we sit self-absorbed and huddled on our little blue world in a quiet backwater of the galaxy. Isn't it time to have another go at it? Can we afford to go? Can we afford _not_ to go?

"Let's give it some thought, lest, in our fear of the unknown and hesitation to grapple with the mysteries of the universe, we provoke a puzzled rebuke from a famous and philosophically-minded Robot who may be wiser than all the rest of us. In his own words: 'That does not compute'.

"Thanks for joining us. We'll see you tomorrow night."

Professor John Robinson clicked off the television and tossed the remote onto the couch. In the sudden silence, he could hear the slight breeze outside the open windows rustling the fronds of the palm trees crowding their bungalow, as well as the soft susurration of light surf.

He rose to his feet with a slight age-induced groan (annoyed not for the first time that he was doing _that_ more and more), leaned down, and picked up the Bombay Sapphire gin martini he was drinking. Placing the wide-brimmed glass between his lips, he took a slow, sensual sip, closing his eyes in pleasure as the icy cold liquid, slightly sweet, slipped across his tongue and down his throat. He carefully lowered the glass, intently examining the crystal clear liquor with the twist of lemon floating, weightless, inside. The drink was already having its usual effect on him. He was feeling pleasantly mellow and was already thinking of mixing a second drink.

All the lights were off in the living room. A silvery illumination came from outside, which he knew was the full moon, out in all its glory. It drew him towards the open sliding glass door that accessed their beach patio. He stopped in the doorway, raised his glass, and took another sip as he scanned the scene before him.

It was a fairyland of silver highlights in shades of blacks and whites. Beyond the patio and past the gently waving hibiscus bushes and royal palm trees, the broad white beach, indented with countless footprints, marched down to the surf. The Pacific Ocean sent gentle rollers hissing up the sands, while the moon, hanging low on the western horizon, illuminated the sea with countless pinpricks of diamond-like reflections.

As the sea breeze lazily lifted his carefully combed hair, he turned his attention to the figure relaxing full length on the chaise lounge nearby. It was Maureen. Her face was bathed in the ethereal light, and her blonde hair appeared to be glowing. A glass with a tiny paper umbrella in it sat empty on the small table next to her. She was wearing a silky full-length robe that rippled gently in the breeze. Her eyes were closed; her lips were upturned in the faintest of smiles.

"What are you thinking about?" John asked softly, leaning casually against the doorway.

She stirred ever so slightly. After a few seconds, she answered. "Just how beautiful it is out here."

John looked into the sky. Brighter stars could be seen through the lunar glow, sparkling warmly above the restless Pacific. "Yes. It is beautiful here," he agreed. His eyes scanned the heavens for a few more moments, then his head cocked to one side, as if in sudden thought. "You know, NASA is already talking about another attempt to Alpha Centauri, or perhaps even to the Clouds of Ariana to perform a long-range examination of Alcandria or Selesia. You know, to assess either the potential threat or possibility of initiating diplomatic contact."

Maureen shook her head resignedly, and her full lips twisted into an annoyed pout. However, when she spoke, it was in a carefully modulated tone. "Yes, I've heard about it."

He sensed her displeasure, but, seemingly unable to stop himself, he blundered on. "There's a new ship design for something called the 'Orion One'. I guess they decided to retire the 'Jupiter' name. I thought that was rather unfair." He took another sip of his drink, watching his wife over the rim of the glass. He lowered the glass, but continued to hold it before his face, like a shield. "It does look pretty impressive, though."

Maureen stretched her hands behind her head. Her eyes were still closed. "Imagine that."

Another pause. "You've seen the preliminary specs on it, haven't you?"

"Not yet."

"Will downloaded the blueprints on it and forwarded me an executive summary. He said it's a 'cool' design, and I would have to agree."

"He would say something like that."

The Pacific continued its quiet, steady music that ebbed and flowed, almost like a heartbeat.

John drained his drink. He felt marginally out of sorts, like he was treading on unwelcome territory. He had to concentrate to keep the stammer out of his voice. "You want to have a look at it tomorrow?"

Maureen finally opened her eyes and turned her head with predatory deliberation towards him. He froze, startled like a deer in the beams of a bright light. The smile on her face was back, but there was a glint in her eyes. She gave every appearance of a dangerous cat about to pounce on something helpless. When she spoke, it was with a husky authority.

"Professor, cease your prattling, put your drink down, and come over here. I've got some specifications for you to examine, right here, and right now." She eased her legs off the lounge chair.

Hypnotized, Professor John Robinson watched her.

Then, he did as he was told.

**To be continued NEXT WEEK…?**

**Same time, same channel?**

**LOST IN SPACE—THE RETURN**

By William D. Ackerman IV

Dedicated to: Mrs. Debra D. Ackerman

In Memory:

Irwin Allen

Guy Williams

Jonathan Harris

Bob May

With Respect and Gratitude:

June Lockhart

Bill Mumy

Angela Cartwright

Mark Goddard

Marta Kristen

Dick Tufeld

Robert Kinoshita

Completed April 28, 2010

_**BIBLIOGRAPHY**_

Lee, Dennis, M.D. from : "Appendicitis and Appendectomy". 2008 MedicineNet, Inc.

Margolis, Simeon, M.D., Ph.D. The John Hopkins Complete Home Guide to Symptoms and Remedies. Black Dog and Leventhal Publishers, Inc., New York NY, 2004.

Internet: : "Dr. Smithisms".

Television: All Episodes of Lost in Space, all three seasons

Kraft, Chris. Flight: My Life in Mission Control. Penguin Putnam, Inc., New York, NY. 2001.

McMahon, David. Relativity Demystified. McGraw-Hill, New York. 2006

Kaku, Michio. Einstein's Cosmos. W.W. Norton and Company, Inc., New York, NY. 2004.

The Holy Bible, King James Version, The Gideons International, National Publishing Company, 1978.

Internet: Wikipedia, Wormholes.


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